Through Fire
by FairyElle
Summary: A fic for the SFTCOLARS Summer Fic Exchange. Sam gets hurt after a hunt goes bad and Dean is left to ponder how deeply Jessica's death affected Sam. Post!Pilot!
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** Not mine. Not even the plot is.

**A/N:** This is a fic for **ScaredofPennies** for the Summer Secret Santa Fic Exchange at SFTCOL(AR)S. I really hope she likes it, and I am sorry that it is a little late.

I also want to say thank you to my wonderful beta Devan (**Ibelieveinsam**) because I couldn't have done this fic without her help and support.

A big thank you to Dawn as well, and everyone else who has been there in the process of this fic. :)

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****Through Fire**

_When all hope is lost an angel sings__…_

Chapter 1

The fire seemed as if it would last for the rest of the night, and then some more.

Just an hour ago Dean had taken Sam to a motel, not too far from where he had started to build a home with Jessica.

But once Sam got there, all he could bring himself to do was sit down, his eyes fastened on something that wasn't there, but somewhere very far away. In the end he'd asked Dean to take him back, because he couldn't sit there. He felt too lost sitting there.

Now, staring at the very same fire that had taken away his girlfriend, he thought the difference wasn't noticeable. The fire was still massive, a vast cloud of gold and angry red dancing together. If Sam stared long enough he thought he could see dark figures in it, but maybe that was just his mind telling him he shouldn't be staring too long.

What he knew was that when there was a fire as great as this one, the firemen couldn't do much until it started to burn down. But now he thought he could detect how it slowly started to transform into something smaller. Yet he stood rooted to the ground, his gaze never leaving the thing that had come to symbolize destruction in their family, but now also in the center of Sam's life.

Dean was not far away. He could hear the strength of his voice carrying all the way to him from where he was standing, talking to one of the firemen. Out of the corner of his eye, Sam could see Dean move towards him, his eyes never leaving him.

It didn't matter though. Nothing seemed to matter anymore. Sam had centered his life around Jess, the girl with the smile that could just ignite a glow deep within him, something he wasn't even aware he had. But now it was gone, just like a candle going out, leaving everything in deep darkness.

"Sam, come on." Dean hovered somewhere behind his shoulder. "Let's get out of here."

Sam didn't move.

"We can come back tomorrow and see..."

Turning around to face his brother, Sam met Dean's gaze for the first time since the fire had started. "And see what?" When he tried to search Dean's eyes for some kind of answer he could only see a hesitancy there, mixed with a softness.

"To see what's left," Dean said, his voice gentle. He touched Sam's shoulder lightly. "Come on, Sammy."

_There's nothing left_, Sam thought. It was slowly and painfully burning away in front of him. It was turning into something manageable for the firemen, but it wasn't what Sam could see. All he could see were the ruins of a life he had barely even started.

Dean's hand didn't move, and with one last look at the remains of the place he'd shared with Jess, Sam allowed himself to be guided to the Impala.

The feel of leather beneath him gave Sam some sense of a familiar comfort. But when he felt his pocket, his hand closed around his phone, gripping it tightly. Jess had always played around with the thing, taking pictures when he didn't notice. Now it was just a cold bit of metal, a reminder that she wasn't there anymore.

After Dean shut his door he could almost feel his eyes burning on him, but Sam was just staring straight ahead, not making eye contact. The motor started and they drove away from all the fire trucks, leaving behind pictures of water and blackness.

When Dean cut off the engine Sam felt it more than heard it. They'd stopped in front of that building he'd seen hours ago. In the front of the building two lights were burning behind cracked glass. The dark doors were illuminated, but next to the green surrounding them, the doors still seemed like they were black holes just waiting for someone to fall into them.

The door handle in front of him seemed like it was miles away. Sam felt like he had forgotten all his skills about how to open it.

Everything came into vivid blurred colours, leaving him dizzy and not knowing what to do. All he could do was sit there and stare right in front of him, almost hoping that the black holes would swallow him, just like the fire had swallowed Jess. There was already a dark, black hole in his heart where Jess was supposed to be, and for every minute that passed it was just getting bigger and bigger.

As Dean opened his door he barely noticed him, he was too lost in the thoughts of what might have happened had Dean not been there. Would he had burned just like Jess? Would he still have felt as if his heart had been ripped out of his chest, and then slowly burnt leaving it charred and broken? Sam didn't know, yet he couldn't help wondering if it would have been better that way.

"Sam." Dean had opened his door. "Come on, we need to go inside." When nothing seemed to be happening, he helped Sam get out. He stumbled before straightening up.

Dean was never far behind him, as Sam led the way up the stairs. It was almost as if he was expecting Sam to fall at any second, but Sam couldn't even bring himself to care. It took too much energy out of him and exhaustion was already starting to fall over him.

The walls of their room were exactly the same as before, but something just didn't seem right. Maybe it was the fact that he had been watching the colors of yellow and red for so long that he no longer could see the difference. Or maybe it was the fact that everything red started to transform into crimson blood, that made him look away from the white wallpaper with vivid red slashes attached to it. It started to give him shivers, a cold chill coming in from his clothes creeping into his skin.

"How long are we planning on staying here?" Sam asked, trying to sound casual.

Dean stopped doing whatever it was he was doing, and looked at Sam. "Depends on how long we need to stay."

If Dean had said that they had to leave right this moment, Sam wouldn't have objected. Everything was reminding him of Jess, of what happened and what part he had in why it even happened. But he also knew that he needed to stay to sort out everything. If there was something left of her, Sam wanted to save it, to hang onto every memory they had shared.

So he accepted Dean's answer and sat down on his bed. "I have to find the thing that killed her, Dean," Sam said fiercely. "I just have to."

It was the only thing that kept him going. It gave him something to focus on, something he had to do to honor her memory. Something he could do to show her that he loved her with every part of him, and that he never wanted her to get hurt because of him.

"We will, Sam." Dean sounded convinced that they would, but his voice was veiled with worry at the same time.

"We need to find Dad too," Sam said urgently.

"Yeah, I know we do, Sam."

"I wish he'd call, or leave a message. Anything to let us know," Sam muttered, frustration edged in his voice.

He couldn't help wondering why exactly his dad had left. Was it because he was close to finding the thing that killed their mom, or was it something completely different? Sam was almost aching to know. He needed to know.

"He did leave me a message, remember?" Dean smirked, trying to get something resembling a smile out of Sam.

It didn't work.

"Yeah." Sam was tuning out Dean's voice without even realizing it. It had happened ever since he'd seen Jess on the ceiling in a sky of flames.

Sam's mind kept wandering somewhere else because he was trying to go over everything that might have told him that his girlfriend had been in danger.

What he found only made him more convinced. Convinced that it wasn't just an accident, or a weird occurrence of the supernatural variety. It was the very same thing that took away his mother, and Sam was now thinking about the two women that had to die to protect him. Anyone with a brain could see that connection.

"We should get some rest."

Sam wasn't slow on picking up how _we_ really meant _you_. But it didn't matter, nothing seemed to matter anymore.

Falling into the bed he was sitting on, Sam closed his eyes.

The wallpaper seemed to have etched itself on the back of his eyelids, like a picture someone had put there. But the red turned rapidly into the slashes Jess had had on her stomach, blood dripping onto Sam. Before the flames took her away, Sam was sure he heard her speak his name.

He bolted up as if he'd been burnt by the very same fire, but he slowly realized that he was in a motel room, and there was no fire in the room. Still, he couldn't stop looking up there, as if he was expecting the room would fill with flames.

"Sammy." Dean was beside him instantly. "Hey, it was just a dream." He was grabbing Sam's arms so he could look into his eyes.

Breathlessly, Sam looked up into clouded green eyes. "No," he whispered. "It wasn't."

Every time he tried to close his eyes, she was there, burning.

Sam finally realized that there was no one else to blame. There was just that sound not louder than a whisper, that feeling stronger than anything he'd experienced, and that knowledge that the moment he had let himself love someone, the sky had started to fall down.

**oooOOOooo**

Dean closed his eyes, listening to the sound of water filling the tub from the bathroom.

It had taken a while, but in the end Sam had believed him when Dean had convinced him that he'd feel better when his body could relax.

When Dean received the short cryptic message from his dad, he didn't know which danger he was talking about. He just knew that this was his chance to get his family to stand together, united, maybe even conquer the danger as a family.

The main reason he'd come to get Sam was get his brother back, and if that was selfish, fine. He just knew that if there was any kind of danger coming, he was the one that needed to keep Sam safe.

But if Jessica burning on the ceiling was anything to go on, he'd say that the danger wasn't something that would vanish any time soon.

It was too late to do anything about the massive destruction, let alone what it had done to Sam. The past hours had made it painfully clear to Dean, that to Sam, Jessica had been special.

Seeing his little brother walk around in such a zombie like state, completely lost in his own world, worried him. Sam was walking around in his own bubble, and Dean didn't know to break through to him.

There was a time when Sam had been living in his very own world, but it was around the time when Dean had to explain where buses sleep, and Sam wasn't more than five years old. It was when he'd went along with Sam's little experiments, like testing how long it would take for a marshmallow to explode in the microwave. Sam believed everything was magic, and Dean let him.

But this was different. This was something else completely.

Turning the Impala around he hadn't known what was happening.

Dean knew the signs of danger as his watch stopped, but he could never imagine just how much damage had been caused. Or what dire consequences it would lead to.

Yet when he saw Sam on that bed, trapped under a wall of flames he went on pure instinct. Instincts which had evolved into something stronger than just a gut feeling.

It was also the reason for why Sam was alive.

The hours after the fire had been excruciating painful. The fact that Dean couldn't do anything more for Sam than just being there, trying to take care of him, was tearing him apart.

In the eyes of his little brother, he'd been the hero who could fix anything, and later the big brother who would stand between any danger just to protect him.

But this was something Dean couldn't protect Sam from, no matter how much he wanted to. Because how do you protect someone from death, and the dark sorrow that blindly follows it?

Thirty minutes later, Dean was wondering what Sam was really doing in there. He wanted to be patient, to give him space, but he also knew that Sam was far from okay.

"Sam? You okay in there?" He knocked on the door twice.

There was no answer.

"Sammy?"

Only silence filled the air.

This wasn't good. Dean was certain that Sam was able to hear him, loud and clear.

Banging on the door once again he muttered, "that's it."

The silence covered him like a heavy blanket, and fear started to claw at his heart. "If you don't answer right now, I swear I'm kicking down this door."

Now he knew something was wrong. "SAM!"

Receiving nothing in response, Dean didn't have a choice. He kicked down the door with trained ease.

At first Dean didn't see anything at all, as he scanned the small bathroom. Everything was still and he started to wonder where exactly Sam was.

But then he saw him. Dean saw how Sam's entire body was under water, with most of his clothes on. A part of him stopped breathing at the sight that met his eyes.

_Oh God._

Shock was going through him in electrifying waves. Dean yanked Sam out of the water by his shirt. He pulled him over the tub, twice his weight due to the heavy wet clothes.

The only thing running through Dean's head was that Sam wasn't breathing. Water was just dripping from his clothes, as Dean felt for a pulse in his desperation.

But then Sam started coughing out water, and Dean couldn't help wondering just how long he had been under water.

"Sam," Dean said, his eyes never moving from Sam's face. "What the hell were you doing?"

His brown hair was wet, plastered to his forehead. Brown eyes, larger than usual never met his. But his lips were trying to form words. "I...I think I fell a-asleep."

"You fell asleep?"

"I closed my eyes, and then I c-can't r-remember," Sam shivered.

Dean contemplated this, wondering if that was what really happened. It was just unbelievable luck that he had actually found him. But while Sam was sitting in front of him shivering, Dean knew he'd get sick if he didn't get out of his wet clothes.

"Let's get you out of these clothes first," he said. Dean's hands pulled Sam's shirt off. After the pants came off, he grabbed a towel. Wrapping it around Sam's frame, he held it close.

"Dean?"

There was a seriousness in those eyes, a desperation in them when he looked at Dean.

"Yeah?"

"I didn't try to kill myself."

"Okay, Sam." Dean guided him to his bed, where he handed Sam a clean shirt.

"I didn't. I was so tired, and I just fell asleep. I closed my eyes, and then when I woke up you were there."

Dean just lifted the covers of his bed, so Sam could get in under them. "Come on, Sammy."

"You don't believe me, do you?" Sam's voice almost cracked with emotion, but he wouldn't look up at Dean while getting into his bed.

Sam sounded hurt, and a part of Dean really believed him. It was impossible not to, while looking into those solemn brown eyes.

But that other part of him remembered the darkness that had coloured them, when Dean had been standing by Sam moments after Jess had died. Even if it was another form of sorrow, he knew that it would take a while for Dean to let Sam out of his sight, no matter what had happened.

"I want to believe you, Sam. But how do you explain the clothes then?"

Sam gazed up at him, his brown eyes bright. "I wasn't trying to kill myself, if that's what you're trying to say."

"I'm not trying to say anything. I just don't want to see that happen again," Dean said sharply. "Ever." He didn't catch what Sam seemed to be muttering. "Do you hear me?"

Sam didn't say anything. Dean studied him critically.

"Sam?"

"It won't happen again, okay!"

"It had better not." He was starting to get even more convinced that Sam really had tried to do something.

He didn't know how deeply involved Sam had been with his girlfriend, and maybe something within him had snapped. Maybe he even thought he was doing the right thing.

If Dean was completely honest with himself, the one thing that had been going through his mind when he saw Sam, was almost scaring him to death.

To him it had looked exactly like Sam had given up, like he couldn't fight anymore. As if he didn't want to breathe.

"Sammy," Dean said, with the affection he only reserved for his little brother. "Go to sleep. You'll feel better in the morning."

"How do you know?"

"I'm always right aren't I?" Dean smirked, one eyebrow raised.

Sam laughed into his pillow. "Yeah, right."

When the lights went out Dean found he couldn't sleep. He lay there, watching the outlines of Sam features as he slept. He had always looked younger while he was asleep, hugging his pillow just as tightly as that stuffed rabbit he'd owned as a kid.

Four years had changed Sam's features. You wouldn't see anything if you didn't look close enough, but Dean was probably the only one who had been close enough to notice.

Four years ago Dean had been able to read Sam like a book, detecting every emotion behind every action. He knew which words were spoken in silence, just like he knew what they meant.

But things had changed.

When Jessica died he could feel more than sense, how Sam started to close off. He didn't even seem to be aware of what he was doing, and where Dean had been able to see every shade of Sam's heart, there were now only dark clouds of pain.

**oooOOOooo**

Sam couldn't sleep.

Beside him he could make out the numbers of his watch, lying on the bedside table. It was almost four in the morning. On his other side Dean was sleeping on, his face towards him.

He was lucky if he could get two hours of dreamless sleep. It didn't seem to be working that way, because no matter how hard he tried, sleep wasn't coming to him as usual.

Almost every hour Sam would wake, out of breath, with images of his girlfriend burning still raw in his mind.

Sometimes she wasn't saying anything, but sometimes her eyes held pain mixed with an accusation that seemed to burn stronger than the fire itself. It was just as if she knew what had constantly crossed his mind, right after she had died.

There were times when Sam couldn't see anything at all, just those flames building an ocean that Jess drowned in.

Seeing that fire blinding him, Sam knew it had to be better to burn, than lay here and fade away to nothing.

As it had burned Jess, and he had stared up at it, wishing he could do something, he wondered how long it would burn. If he burned, would it save him or would it kill him?

Sam had never felt his whole body tremble that way. Before Dean had come running, he wondered if it was right that his girlfriend was choking on fire, and Sam was still breathing. He was still alive.

Dean hadn't noticed how sleep didn't come to him, for which Sam was thankful.

The moment he had pulled Sam out of the bath tub, his face was something that was hard to forget. His eyes, always alert, had been curtained with panic and a wild desperation. Desperation because he was certain that Sam had been trying to kill himself.

Killing himself had never been in Sam's plans. When he was thinking about it, he didn't even remember how he got into the bathtub, let alone with his clothes on. What he remembered, was that Jess was the only thing he seemed to see when he closed his eyes.

The moment he'd tried to let go of his tension, the devastation, he had started to dream. Sam had fallen asleep in the water, and that was also how Dean had found him. He had almost been as shocked as his brother.

Almost.

There had been a fear behind Dean's every action, strong enough as the striking of lightning in a storm. Even Sam couldn't fail to notice that. Yet in his mind, he knew it was easier to give in when you fall. That was what he was doing. Every minute of every hour, he was falling.

But Sam couldn't tell Dean what he knew. He couldn't explain those dreams that had been so vivid and alive, how he could still remember almost every detail of them. All he could do was try to shield his sorrow, that he was trying so hard to hold back.

It had taken the term nightmare to a whole new level. The only thing Sam had done those nights he'd been dreaming, was to push those dreams to the back of his head. He was trying desperately to ignore them even though there was a loud sound in his head, telling him he shouldn't.

Jess' life had been in his hands, and what had he done? He hadn't been able to save her. Instead he had failed the woman he wanted to spend the rest of his life with.

Now as small rays of sunshine were trying to get through the curtains, creating shadows dancing around his bed, he failed to see it. Destruction in forms of fire were always haunting him, destroying every moment of peace.

As those cracks in the ceiling would just grow deeper with each day, so would the hole someone had dug into his heart.

She was dead.

It was slowly penetrating into his mind, into his soul. When she'd been in his life, the road to his heart had been paved with light. But now, now they had faded into the year's darkest night.

If he could, he would scream his lungs out. Whenever it started to slip from his mind, he was reminded that the fire had been her last bend, before she was crashing.

Nothing could explain the pain he had felt when he realized that Jess was gone for good, that nothing would ever bring her back. But what was cutting into his soul like a knife, was the fact that he might have been able to do something about it.

It was like black clouds creating darkness that was shutting him in, a storm that was raging, with lightning crushing him in a way that almost killed.

Sam had finally come to realize that when nothing matters, something would change inside. Something had changed, because Sam no longer cared what was going to happen. He didn't know what he was going to do when the time came, when they would find and kill the thing held responsible for the death of his girlfriend.

When the sunshine was strong enough to illuminate the watch beside him, he noticed how Dean seemed to be waking up beside him. What he would give to be able to sleep so deep, so easy.

Sam didn't even bother to fake sleep, because he knew Dean well enough to know that he could always see through it.

Still, when Dean got up to get into the bathroom, Sam wouldn't have minded staying in bed all day and doing nothing at all.

Everything could wait one day longer, really what difference would it make?

"Sam, you awake?" Dean's voice was hesitant. "It's better if we go earlier."

"Before everyone else gets there you mean?" Sam finally turned around. "We can go there whenever."

Dean observed him intently. "Did you sleep at all last night?" It looked as if Dean hadn't lost all his skills in reading Sam.

"I got some," Sam answered, shrugging.

"Right," Dean nodded, but his eyes told Sam that he didn't believe him. "Well, you wanna use the bathroom?" The warning in his voice told him that Dean was not about to forget what happened yesterday any time soon.

"Maybe later," Sam said, turning away from his brother.

"Sam, look." Sam could feel the weight of Dean sitting down on his bed. "I know this is hard," Dean sighed. "Everything sucks, but we need to keep on moving. Trust me, it's easier with less people around."

"I don't care." He did care. It would be easier with no one around, trying to understand how he felt. No, he would rather just be there with Dean. But the exhaustion of not getting any sleep was finally getting to him. He didn't want to see whatever was left there just now.

"Well I do, and we're going in one hour, whether you like it or not." His voice softened when he continued. "Sam, this isn't healthy. We don't have to stay there for long, but it's better if we do it now."

"What exactly do you know about healthy?" Sam wanted to know.

"I know you're only going to feel worse if you lie here all day."

"Then we can do it tomorrow," he mumbled, hugging his pillow closer.

"Sammy..."

"Fine," he muttered, too drained to argue. Throwing the covers aside, he got up, never so much as looking at his brother.

Dean's voice followed him all the way to the bathroom. "Leave the door open."

Sam had his doubts about going there at all. He had a feeling about what he was about to see. In daylight, those black ruins would look even more devastating and horrific. What would be left exactly? Sam couldn't think of a single thing. Everything Sam had shared with Jess had probably turned into ashes.

Looking into the mirror, his skin was almost as pale as ivory. No wonder Dean had looked at him like that. Sam could see that invisible fog in his eyes clearly, whether it was pain or something else he didn't know.

Inside their room, in the whole motel, everything seemed to shine bright. Everything inside seemed so white it almost blinded his eyes.

Sam only felt out of place, out of place because he expected something to happen everytime he turned around.

In every shadow there seemed to be a monster lurking, just getting ready for an attack.

It was just like those moments when he knew there had been something under his bed, but he couldn't look because he knew that it would attack. He'd always run to find safety in Dean's bed, because he knew that there, nothing bad could ever happen. Because Dean would never let it.

"Here," Dean gave him some clothes when he came out. If he had looked hard enough he would notice that they were brand new.

"Thanks," he said, genuinely thankful for everything Dean was doing for him. What was harder was to make Dean realize how grateful he really was.

Dean cracked a smile. "Gotta have my little brother look a little presentable at least."

"Shut up," Sam muttered, pulling the t-shirt on. If it were up to him, he would sit on that bed forever never bothering to do anything. That was what he felt like doing.

"C'mon, kiddo, let's go."

Sam knew it wouldn't do any good to try to delay the visit of the wreckage, but he had a feeling if he saw anything that would remind him of Jess, he wouldn't be able to take it. Mentally he was steeling himself for whatever he would find there.

"Okay," was all Sam said.

It was time to gather all those pieces of his shattered dream.

Only one fire truck was standing outside the apartment complex that once held beauty and style.

Now, as the sun illuminated the wreckage, Sam could see how it was black as coal.

One fireman was talking to someone else, who looked like a fire marshal. Their conversation seemed to end when Sam and Dean came closer.

"You boys be careful when you're looking. Avoid going near any of the tape," the fire marshal told them

Dean stepped in front of Sam. "We will."

Seeing everything covered in ashes was something different from watching the fire. Sam could see the tape that was put up wherever the structure looked too unsteady.

The room was silent, but through it Sam swore he could have heard distance voices. Whether they were memories or something completely different, Sam would never know.

It was as if the room was breathing, a secret heart pounding in all the dust and ashes.

Sam silently wondered if this was what his father had to experience, trying to go through the remains of a life that was miles away.

On the floor under the ashes, Sam couldn't find the pictures Jess had so strategically placed out. It had been one of the things Sam had admired about her, how she had known exactly where to put everything to give everything a life of its own.

A sadness weighed his heart down when he saw those little figures made of glass Jess had collected. The figures which had had different colors were now colored black.

Sam regarded the lion for bravery sitting in his hand, and the dolphin for freedom and family. Most of her precious collection was there, even the pink seal Sam had bought her. Sam put them in his pocket, wanting to take a part of her with him.

"Sam?" A new voice made him turn around. He could see how her eyes were bloodshot from crying, and he forced down the lump in his throat. It was Jess' best friend.

"Hey Jodie," Sam whispered, looking down at Jess' favorite painting to his left. "I was just..."

Jodie only put her arms around him, and Sam breathed in the scent of affection that seemed to come from her in waves.

"I'm so sorry Sam," she said as she let go. "Jess talked about you before...while you were..."

"...with my brother," Sam finished for her. His eyes automatically swung to Dean, who didn't hide the fact that he had been listening. "Dean."

Jodie nodded in Dean's direction.

Sam turned his gaze downwards, feeling a sudden burning sensation behind his eyes. "What...what did she say?"

"She wanted to talk to you." Jodie touched Sam's hand. "Did she talk to you before..." she made a sweeping movement with her hand.

"No, she didn't." Sam met her grey eyes. "Did she mention something that was bothering her, or someone?"

"You mean you think someone wanted..."

"No!" Sam said so vehemently, he could see how Dean's brows arched. He just wanted to know what Jess had seen, if someone had done something to her. "I just wanted to know what she wanted to talk to me about," Sam said in a soft voice.

Deep inside he knew that this was his fault, Jess had probably seen something or heard something. Sam hadn't been there to stop it. He hadn't been there to warn her. Now he could see that pain in the girl who had laughed with Jess all those afternoons, who had offered them her place when they were still looking for an apartment.

"I know you do." She sighed, her eyes sweeping over the wreckage that had been a great apartment just one night ago. "You know, if you don't have a place to stay, you and your brother could always stay with me. You know I wouldn't mind."

"Thanks, but I...I can't. We're not staying that long, I need to take a break from all of this...college."

"Too many reminders, huh?"

"Something like that."

"Well you could still come by tonight. A bunch of us are going to be there."

"I don't think I can, not yet. I need more time. I don't know..." Sam knew he'd need much more than time until he could meet all those people again.

"Okay, well if you change your mind..." Jodie took a look around the place one more time before turning to Sam. "Goodbye Sam," she whispered, kissing his cheek.

"Goodbye," Sam whispered, but she had already left.

Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed how Dean put down whatever it was he was holding. "Sam?" He could hear Dean's voice, but he couldn't pay attention to what he was saying.

Sam's eyes had found something behind the tape. It was something he didn't even remember, but now he knew it was the only thing that could have survived the fire. It was the only thing he could see, everything else was fading out.

It was a safe.

The safe hadn't existed when they had moved in. It was something Jess decided they needed to have. Sam lifted the tape carelessly, not caring about the fact that it was very likely the black charred structure could fall down on him.

"Sam!" Dean's voice sounded too far away for him to listen. "Stay away from the tape, damnit." But Sam didn't hear him. He didn't notice how Dean's face seemed to take on that territorial set, how he was moving close enough to pull Sam back if he needed to.

Sam never even noticed how Dean was ready to go beyond the call of duty of a guardian angel.

The only thing Sam's mind was focused on, was getting to that safe and opening it. If his senses were right he would find something in there, something that Jess had valued. Because to Sam, everything he valued was not in that safe. It was what he came home to, the face he woke up to every morning.

Until now.

Before Sam had met Jess, he hadn't put much belief in clichés. Sure, he'd read about them, but none of them were real. They were just pretty sentences to describe something that couldn't be described.

But when Sam had come to know her, when he was close to her, everything he'd read about passion, every cliché had came to life.

The burning sensation, the way his heart seemed be full of fireworks whenever Jess was close enough. It was something he was feeling in the center of his heart. And when they kissed, he could feel that electric bolt going through his body.

He had come to know her, maybe like no one ever knew her, because Sam had seen what made her special. Everyone always admired the surface, but no one really knew what was inside. No one knew about the girl who had had her heart crushed over and over again, and where she wasn't perfect, she was just like Sam.

Sam knew he wasn't like everyone else. He never fitted in completely. Even though he wanted that new beginning, he felt lost there.

While he was living normal, feeling it, sometimes he just felt so out of place. But whenever he had been with Jess, they fit together. She completed him in a sense he never thought possible, by just sitting next to him. But at the same time he knew that there were sides of her no one had seen. The way a rainbow sparkled in her tears, or how she would never take anything for granted again.

They were different, but somehow they were also burning with the same flame.

The combination to the safe was something Sam could remember in his sleep. Even if he was blind he'd still know the way to open it.

The turns, left, right, left, left and eventually it opened up. Just as it opened and Sam saw what was lying there, every memory seemed to be coming back to him. But the one that shined stronger than the rest, was when Jess had convinced him that sometimes you have to protect what's precious to you.

**oooOOOooo**

"_What if something happens? What are we going to do then?" Jess looked at him, blue eyes clear as crystal looked into his. "There are some things I don't want to lose," Jess said, taking one step closer to him, curling her arms around Sam's neck._

"_You won't," he whispered._

"_Oh yeah?" She pressed her smile against his lips, before touching them with a touch lighter than a feather._

_In the end, Sam had agreed about coming with her, looking for the safe that would hold all the precious things they couldn't lose. _

_Walking between rows holding all kinds of boxes, in every size, Sam had to admit that it was a pretty good idea. But some of those boxes just looked so ugly._

"_Well they aren't supposed to look pretty," she laughed. "They are supposed to blend in."_

"_How does a black safe blend in anywhere?" _

"_Not in our apartment anyway," she winked. Jess had stopped by a row that held safety boxes that were beige. "What about this one?" She pointed to a medium sized box, that was neither big nor small. _

_Sam thought it looked a great deal better than the others. They weren't the types who had a box hidden behind a fancy painting, but they were looking for something that would keep their most precious possessions safe. _

_Jess smiled at him, and Sam returned it, kissing her cheek softly before they walked to pay for their investment._

_Ten days earlier, they had celebrated their first year __anniversary. It had been one year ago since they had crossed paths in that cafeteria, when Sam had caught her eyes and she had smiled that secret smile. _

_Jodie, who had been friends with Jess ever since they had been in kindergarten was the one who gave them the greatest photo album Sam had ever seen. _

_In it there had to be hundreds of pictures, where Jodie had caught all those moments Sam didn't even remember. But once he and Jess had looked through the whole album, Sam realized that he wanted to save those moments forever._

_The present from their other friends was so easily done, and yet it looked so professional. There was a picture Zach had taken when they had spent a day at the beach. Sam couldn't even remember it being taken, which when he thought about it, probably was the point._

_As the red ball of the sun was going down, it shone in Jess' hair, almost making her look like a golden angel. She wasn't even acknowledging that she was being photographed, she was only looking at Sam. _

_Even though the photo had been taken from the side, as Sam had stared into the eyes just as blue as the ocean, Sam was certain he had seen that same sun in her eyes. _

_But looking at it later, he knew there wasn't anyone who could fail to see the pure affection in her eyes._

_It had been put into a silver frame, decorated with hearts and roses, and __underneath there were words engraved. _

_Sam and Jessica – Forever._

_When Jess had looked at him, a laugh made her tears fall down her cheek. "I love you, Sam Winchester," she smiled. _

"_I love you too," Sam whispered. _

_He'd meant it. _

_Coming to Stanford he never knew there would be someone like this girl, someone who could break through his __defenses. But when she did, even though there were still things he had hidden, he'd let himself love her. More than he thought was possible._

**oooOOOooo**

Blowing away the ashes Sam saw the album Jess had cherished, the album they had looked at together more than a few times. There was even that receipt from their first date, at the coffee shop on the Stanford campus.

The medallion that had belonged to Jess was there, it was dark from dust but it wasn't broken. When he opened it, he could see a picture of himself staring back at him.

Sam held it tightly in his hand, knowing that this was the thing Jess had been wearing every day.

The rest of the things were broken. There was a little bowl shaped like a heart that had belonged to her grandmother. Sam remembered how she had been so careful with it, wanting to keep it forever.

Sam lifted the things out of the box before closing it. In his hands, he was holding everything Jess wanted him to have, and he would take it.

When they were safe inside his pockets he sat down on the ground, all around him the black structure starting to shake.

Sam didn't care.

He didn't do anything to get out of there, but Dean grabbed his jacket, pulling him back roughly. "We're going," he said, his face tight with frustration and anger. "Now, Sam." Pushing Sam in front of him, they walked out of the black ruins.

Sam didn't look back this time.

He could feel Dean's anger coming off like vapor, but he never said anything.

The silence in the car was almost suffocating, so heavy it was almost hurting his head.

But as he felt his pockets for those precious pieces of Jess, there was something that could never be replaced, no matter how many pictures he would look at.

And she had disappeared into darkness forever.

Sam knew that he needed her to breathe. How was he supposed to explain to Dean how much she really mattered?

How he needed her to live, to never fall asleep.

As they entered the motel moments later, Sam knew Dean was holding back his emotions. He secretly wondered what would happen if he'd let go of all those emotions.

Sam doubted it would make a difference. When you have seen tragedy and disaster meet, everything becomes less important.

But even though he might be seeing everything through a haze, sometimes everything around him becoming blurred, there were things he would always be able to see.

This moment was definitely one of those times.

It didn't take much for him to notice how Dean's green eyes had darkened, mirroring a thundering sky. It appeared as if Dean wanted to say something, and as Sam waited it never came.

There was only a tension so loaded, Sam wouldn't have been surprised if he had heard the cracking sounds of electricity in the air.

Clutching the medallion he hadn't let go of ever since the car ride, Sam noticed how Dean was pacing in front of him, clearly looking for something he had to find.

"What are you looking for?"

Turning around, Dean stared at him with an expression Sam couldn't quite interpret. "Nothing," he muttered quietly.

Sam didn't have time to think about what Dean was holding back. If his instincts were correct, he had a pretty good idea what it was about anyway, and it was something he didn't want to get close to.

Not tonight.

The same moment Sam had found their safe, with all those memories it held, it had become hard to breathe. It was the reason for why Sam wouldn't sleep tonight. He simply wouldn't.

Tonight, he needed to be alone. It wasn't even a conscious thought, but somewhere he knew it was the truth.

Ever since that fire had reflected in his eyes, Sam knew that there was nothing Dean could do to make it easier. The only possible thing he could do was to leave him alone, but he hadn't.

Dean had never left his side. It was almost as if he thought Sam was just as fragile as china, waiting for him to break.

"We should turn in early," Dean said, breaking the silence. "You coming?" Dean looked at him, as if nothing had happened.

Sam knew it wasn't nothing.

Dean was angry, and he was covering up with actions, with trying to play it cool. Sam had seen it too many times to not be able to see through it.

This night he couldn't be here though, and since there was no way Dean would let him go out by himself he had no other choice but to take matters in his own hands.

But while he was waiting patiently for Dean to find whatever it was he was looking for, he never noticed the trouble clouding his features.

"Yeah." Sam answered, absent-mindedly.

When he went into the bathroom, seeing his reflection staring back at him, he still didn't like what he was seeing. Somehow he looked even paler than he had this morning.

Maybe if he was exhausted, he would sleep better at night, but that couldn't be right.

_Who was he kidding?_

There wasn't a moment where Sam didn't feel exhausted. Losing his appetite and sleep probably weren't a good combination, but what did it matter anyway?

He was almost positive it hadn't been more than a minute before Dean came in, joining him.

"Sammy, listen..." Dean started.

But Sam couldn't take it, he was sick of Dean watching him like a hawk all the time. It was obvious that the only reason Dean was in the bathroom was because of Sam.

"Hey, I'm trying to talk to you," Dean grabbed Sam's arm.

Sam stumbled, momentarily seeing black clouds of dizziness in his head. He rapidly blinked them away. "I'm really tired Dean. Can't it wait 'til tomorrow?"

Not really expecting an answer, Sam turned around getting into his bed, hoping Dean would let it go.

"Sam!" Dean's angry voice pierced through the silence Sam needed. "We need to talk about this."

"There's nothing to talk about," Sam said, before turning around in his bed, away from Dean.

The lights went out twenty minutes later.

Heavy breaths could eventually be heard from the bed next to him.

Sam closed his eyes, breathing deeply. Deciding that it was safe to get out of his bed, Sam quietly crawled into his jeans and jacket.

The door opened easily and Sam was careful not to slam it shut.

When he was out on the street, Sam breathed in the night air as he started to walk. He drew a shuddering breath as he zipped up his jacket to shut out the cold.

His intention wasn't to find a bar so he could drink until he couldn't walk. It was to find a place where he could be alone. Alone meaning wherever he could melt into a crowd.

The only place he could see in a manageable distance was the bar a bit further from their motel. Even from where Sam was standing, the flash of the blue wave above the name 'The Surfer', was visible.

Making his way towards the bar, Sam tried to walk fast. All around him darkness was sweeping through the night. Where there wasn't any light, there was just complete darkness.

It reminded him of that night, now just one night ago but what felt like a lifetime ago.

Small lights were burning in their bulbs. Outside the bar, people were gathering. Sam noticed they were mostly couples. He could hear their voices.

"No I didn't. That was you." Laughter. "If that's what you wanna do."

Sam had to look away. It reminded him to much of the dream that wasn't supposed to break.

_Jess._

As Sam walked inside, no one even seemed to notice, which was exactly the way he wanted it.

When he walked up to the bartender asking for a beer, he barely even looked at Sam. "What do you want?"

"A beer."

It was slammed down on the bar counter so hard, Sam almost thought it would leave a crack, but the beer was ice cold, freezing under his hand.

Taking one small sip from it, Sam thought it tasted disgusting, but it wasn't important. He was just sitting there without moving, without even thinking and it was okay.

He'd never really been to that many bars with Jess. They had always spent their time doing other things.

Sam didn't want to go there, not tonight.

The environment around him was just something he wasn't used to.

Two men entered, storming into the bar, scanning the bar quickly with an air of superiority.

Sam knew that if he stayed low, not bothering anyone, no one would bother him either.

He was wrong.

The way the bigger of the two ordered made Sam want to move away, and it wasn't out of fear. He looked like a mountain of flesh and blood.

"I'm not waiting all night," he bellowed at the bartender.

What Sam couldn't understand was why the bartender suddenly seemed to work twice as slow. If it was to piss him off, it was definitely working.

"You hear me?"

The bartender didn't acknowledge that he was being yelled at.

"Yeah I'm talking to you! If I'm not getting them right now..." He stopped as his drinks were slammed down in front of him, next to Sam.

Sam studied the exchange secretly, hoping they would just take their drinks and leave.

"What the hell are you looking at?"

"Nothing," Sam said, feeling slightly smaller than he was.

"Then get outta here. This is my spot," the man said, his breath already smelling of alcohol. He was towering over Sam, who knew he should just leave to avoid the trouble.

The way they were looking at him with blank and vacant eyes made Sam shiver. The last thing he wanted to do was get into something with them.

Yet, the competitive side of Sam wanted to keep his seat, and not let himself be pushed over.

Before he could even think about what was happening, Sam felt himself being lifted from the floor. The man standing before him had grabbed him roughly by the shirt, coming so close that Sam could see the fury in his eyes.

"Are you deaf? Want me to spell it out for you?"

It didn't take a genius to figure out what he meant.

Sam wasn't stupid. He hadn't been studying law for nothing. It was obvious to him that if he stayed a little longer, things would most likely get out of hand.

But he couldn't allow himself to be pushed aside by some random idiot, he wouldn't take it.

"Go to hell!"

"You don't know who you're talking to kid," the man grumbled. "I'm gonna..."

"What, kill me? Go ahead!"

As he pushed the man away from him, Sam put all his body strength behind that one movement before turning to walk away.

Only he didn't get very far.

Someone grabbed him from behind, sending him flying and crashing to the floor. Fortunately he was able to break the fall with his arms, but he still lay there with his arms protesting, blinking stupidly at the red lights in the ceiling.

"You really shouldn't have done that." The bitter voice came somewhere from his right.

What surprised him was how no one seemed to notice, as if this was something that happened every day. Sam silently wondered if it was.

Kicking out his legs, Sam tried to push the men away, to find a way to get out of there.

"You little..." the large man yelped.

As Sam was lifted off the floor he could detect the ice cold fury in the voice belonging to the man who was now standing before him.

It told him that what he should have done was walk away. Instead he had managed to upset two men who were bigger than him, and probably stronger too.

A door opened before him, and he could feel himself being pushed inside violently.

It looked like an old store room. There was a broken lamp to his left, giving the room a dim look and casting half the room in darkness.

_Perfect. Now what?_

Normally Sam's instincts were near perfect. He'd learned how to hear things before he actually saw them.

None of that seemed to apply now. Normally, Sam didn't feel as if he was living in a bad dream just waiting for the moment he would wake up.

This time he didn't hear that fist swinging in his direction.

"You know who I am?" the voice taunted.

"I don't really care," Sam whispered, trying to breathe through the pain.

"Then maybe you should," came the heavy answer.

Sam could barely see anything, the pain that was like spikes to his face, made everything even darker. It made him gasp for air, and for the first time he wished he hadn't left the motel.

When he tried to throw punches, the only thing his fist connected with was an arm. It didn't even do any damage either, since the man only ducked, slipping away from his grasp.

"I'm the..."

"I don't give a damn about who you are", Sam whispered.

In front of him the man gritted his teeth. "You know what? You're never gonna get out of here," he hissed venomously. "You're gonna die here and no one will come for you."

There was only one thought going through his head.

_Dean._

Sam had to call him. Screw his pride, he needed Dean's help. He needed it badly.

The cell phone was in his pocket. Sam tried to get to Dean's number without having to look at it. He could only pray that it would work.

"You can't kill me."

"What was that?" The voice seemed distant, too far away from Sam.

At a last attempt of breaking free, Sam threw his elbows above his head, successfully knocking out one of them.

"Sonofabitch!" the large man swore.

Somewhere in the fight Sam started to give up. There were too many colours in his head. He had to blink hard to make out the shapes before him, trying to keep them away from him.

"You wanna know something? I have done this before," his voice was edging towards insanity now. "I have killed before."

Now, Sam was really convinced that he had to get out of there, and fast.

He didn't know if the call had gone through. There wasn't any sound coming from it. Maybe he had accidentally touched something that cut the call.

A pain to the side of his head made him wonder if his head really was on fire. It felt like that anyway.

Sam could taste the blood in his mouth, and he could almost hear that distinct pounding in his head.

He was prepared now, but at this point he didn't know what was going to happen.

As the shapes before him were getting smaller and smaller, the colors in his head seemed to transform into a violent shade of black and violet.

The last thing he remembered was how he slipped, and suddenly the world turned black.

**oooOOOooo**

**TBC**

Please review and let me know what you think :)


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N**: Thank you to all of you for the wonderful reviews. I appreciate every single one of them!

I want to thank Devan once again for being such an amazing beta!

Alright on with the story!

-x-

**THROUGH FIRE**

_Chapter 2_

There was a sound.

Dean struggled to wake up, trying to remember if the sound had come from a dream or reality. It became clear to him that it was his cell phone, when he saw it vibrate beside him.

"Hello," he said harshly, irritated by the fact that someone wanted to ruin his sleep.

_Who the hell calls at 4 AM in the morning anyway?_

There was nothing. Dean could only hear fragments of what someone was saying.

"Sonofabitch," a harsh voice said.

There were sounds of movements, but no one seemed to come to the phone. "Hello?" he asked into the phone.

The call was cut.

It started to sound more like a joke. Maybe it was someone who had called the wrong number.

Before going back to sleep again, his gaze turned to Sam's bed, and he nearly got a heart attack when he saw it.

It was empty.

"Fuck!"

Dean threw the covers away, flying out of bed, green eyes raking through the room.

Had someone taken Sam? The mere thought sent chills down his spine. Or did he sneak out, just waiting for the chance when he would fall asleep?

Either way, it had worked.

Sam was gone and Dean hadn't known about it but the thought of Sam being alone at night, God knows where, made him ill.

By the sound of it, it sounded like someone else was involved. Sam hadn't even come to the phone when he'd called. There had just been that other screaming voice.

And God if someone had touched his baby brother, murder wouldn't be out of the question.

By the time he had gotten into the Impala and started to drive, his mind went over all the places where Sam could be.

It all boiled down to whether Sam had gone by himself or if someone had forced him, but something told him that Sam had sneaked out when he had fallen asleep. If that was the case he'd kick his stupid ass, but it didn't matter now.

What mattered was that Dean would find him as fast as possible, to make sure he was alright.

A part of him hoped that Sam was somewhere safe, out of trouble. But when he realized that there was only one bar open, among the other bars and restaurants, he knew Sam must be there.

Dean knew all about the people that gathered past midnight, and it sure as hell weren't your usual people. He'd had his share of strange people, dangerous people, and people just out of their minds.

To even think that Sam was stuck in the middle of that, made his heart slam furiously in his chest.

Scanning the bar quickly, Dean couldn't see that familar face he could see in any crowd.

Sam wasn't here.

A loud noise came from the left side of the bar. Dean noticed that the bartender didn't seem to notice, but Dean was used to noticing things other people didn't.

Following the sound, Dean could see a grey door. He could see black faded letters, the words _Store Room _paintedon it. Opening the door with his heart in his throat, he didn't know what he would see.

At first he couldn't see anything. Then his eyes started to get used to the dim light. Then he saw a man pinning something to a wall. The man was so large, Dean had to get closer to see who it was.

"I'm gonna kill you with my own..."

Dean finally saw who it was, and his fears had come true when he saw that hair covering those eyes.

It was Sam. Sammy.

"Hey," he yelled furiously.

The man seemed to notice they had company. "Who the hell are you?" He'd turned around to face Dean.

"I'm the one you don't wanna mess with," he gritted out. "Let him go."

The man only sneered. "What are you? His keeper?" Then he turned around, raising his fist to Sam's face.

Dean was next to the man in one stride. "I'm his big brother." He dragged the man away from his brother, who looked like he would pass out any second. "You ever come near him again, and I _will_ kill you."

But the man grabbed Dean, and pushed him away, successfully making Dean hit the wall. Then he turned around to face Sam, who was breathing heavily against the wall covered in darkness.

Dean got up before he hit the ground. Green eyes were blazing when the man grabbed Sam by the shirt.

As Dean punched the man hard right into the solar plexus, slamming him into the wall, he twisted one of the large arms behind the man's back. "I thought we agreed you would let him go." The words were muttered in disgust, a deadly warning in his voice.

"You're fucking breaking my arm," the man gasped, his breathing getting heavier and more rigid by the second.

"I'll snap it off if you so much as look at him again."

"Well I'm t-terrified n-now," the man tried to scoff.

"You should be," Dean said in a dangerous voice.

With one final punch Dean knocked him out, watching how he dropped to the ground.

He had more important things to take care of.

Sam had fallen to the ground, his eyes closed not able to see or hear his brother.

"Sammy! Sam!" Dean fell to his knees next to him, lifting up his head to see how much damage had been done.

"C'mon, wake up for me."

Sam's face was covered in blood, his lip was cut and the side of his face had a big bleeding bruise. Anger surged through him as his eyes fell on the man who had hurt his little brother in such a way.

"Sam, can you hear me?" He tried to see how serious the bruise was, wiping away the blood on his cheek.

Dean brushed the brown curls away from Sam's face. "Sammy, please." He looked so pale, and Dean silently wondered why he hadn't noticed it before.

He should have noticed it, and he cursed himself for not seeing how Sam seemed to slip away from him.

A groan brought his eyes to Sam's face.

"W-what h-happened?" he grimaced.

"You don't remember?"

Sam blinked. "I r-remember two guys, and then I d-don't know," he said, clearly trying to figure out where he was. "H-how did you get here?"

"I drove," Dean answered. When Sam looked confused he added, "I got your phone call."

Sam sat up, avoiding Dean's eyes. "Yeah, I called you. I had some trouble."

"I'll say," Dean said. He studied Sam intently. "Just don't do that again."

"Do what?"

"If you wanna go out, tell me," Dean went on. "Hell, I don't care how you do it, but you let me know if you want to go out and drink or whatever."

"I didn't want to drink," Sam mumbled, speaking to his knees. "I just wanted to go out."

"Oh yeah? And what if I hadn't picked up, then what?"

Sam still didn't look at him. "I would have made it," he muttered.

"Are you kidding me? No you wouldn't have." Dean sighed. He regarded Sam's pale complexion, a wave of guilt washing over him.

He should have known.

He should have known that Sam wasn't eating or sleeping. It was his responsibility.

And he'd ignored what was right in front of him.

Sam was staring at something Dean couldn't quite see. "I can take care of myself."

"Yeah? And I would agree, but things have changed, Sam."

_Well obviously._

"Really? I didn't notice," Sam muttered, sarcasm in his voice.

"For one you need to eat something before you start passing out."

Sam only shrugged.

"I mean it, Sam." His pale skin worried him. "I'm gonna get you something to drink."

"I don't need..." Sam started.

But Dean was already on his feet. "Don't move," he ordered.

A moment later he came back to find Sam leaning against the hard wall, not even looking up when he entered.

"Sammy?"

"Uh-huh." Sam looked up at Dean, noticing the glass of water in his hand.

"Here, drink this."

When Sam made no move to drink the water, Dean pressed the cold glass to his lips, helping him drink the clear liquid.

"We should go," Dean muttered.

Someone must have noticed all the noise coming from the room.

"Okay." Sam was struggling to get up, but when Dean tried to help him, he pushed him away.

Still, he wasn't about to let Sam get hurt again. It was why he walked behind him, ready to catch him if he should fall.

The Impala was parked right outside the bar. It wasn't that far to the motel and if Dean had known, he could have made it there by running.

It was still a relief to know that Sam was alright, and that he could fix those bruises. It was the wounds inside he couldn't do anything about.

"I'm gonna walk to the motel," Sam said. "It's not far," Sam added as an afterthought.

"Sam," Dean said. "You're not walking."

"You can't tell me what to do," Sam muttered, irritated.

"Oh yes I can. You're too weak to go anywhere right now. Alright?" Dean was starting to lose his patience. "Now get in the car."

"No," Sam said. "I'm walking." He seemed to mean it too, as he started to move away from the Impala.

Dean didn't say anything at first, he just squinted into Sam's bruised face.

One of Sam's hands came up to scratch his cheek, but then he seemed to remember there was blood there, and the hand fell to his side.

Dean looked at Sam, trying to see that expression in his eyes. It was hard since the only light came from one of the lamps along the pathways, and it was pretty dim.

"I'm serious, Sam." Dean's voice was low with warning. "If you don't get your ass into this car," he pointed to the black Impala, "I swear to God I'm gonna do it myself."

Sam only glared at Dean. "Fine." He then slammed the door behind him.

_Great. Just great. Now Sam was pissed at him too._

Walking to their room Sam stumbled three times before they reached their door. Sam didn't even seem to notice.

"You alright?"

"Dizzy," came the tired reply.

"Not eating anything will do that to you," Dean said sharply.

Sam gave him no answer.

Yet that familiar way Sam used to roll his eyes sent warmth through his body.

Back inside their room, Dean noticed how Sam didn't do anything except lay down on his bed, not bothering to remove anything.

"You need to sit up," Dean told him, a cold towel in his hand. But Sam didn't make any attempts to change his position. "Sam, work with me here."

Slowly Sam sat up in a sitting position. "M'tired."

"I know kiddo," Dean breathed. "But it'll get worse if we don't do this."

Carefully, Dean grabbed Sam by the neck to hold his head steady, while trying to remove all the blood.

"You never told me what really happened," Dean said softly.

"Nothing happened."

And the clouds seemed to pass by those brown eyes that looked up at him, waiting for him to make everything alright.

But this time he couldn't.

The sorrow in them went too deep, to a place he couldn't reach.

As the blood disappeared, Dean could see the deep cut just below Sam's eye. It wasn't deep enough for stitches, but it made Dean wish he had gone through with his threat.

"Sam, tell me what happened."

"I can't," Sam mumbled. "Not now." His voice was almost breaking.

It made Dean want to shake his brother and make him tell Dean what was wrong, but he knew he couldn't.

Seeing Sam in so much pain he barely noticed the world around him, was something he had hoped he would never see. And yet, here he was, trying to get through to the one person that was more precious to him than life itself.

"Fine," Dean finally said. "You gonna be able to sleep alright?" He eyed his brother critically.

"I guess."

Dean only sighed.

Sam didn't seem to respond to anything around him at the moment. He just stared at his jacket. "There's blood, Dean," he suddenly whispered, more to himself than to Dean.

Dean had to take off Sam's jacket with the dark blood on one arm, moving it out of Sam's sight. "It's okay, Sammy. We'll wash it."

Sam nodded.

Dean moved to remove Sam's shoes, before pulling the covers over him. "You'll be okay, kiddo. I promise."

**oooOOOooo**

Dean woke up to the sound of Sam's voice.

"So it's Friday?"

Dean opened his eyes slowly, seeing Sam holding his cell to his ear. "Yeah I think so," he could hear him say.

Someone seemed to be explaining something to Sam, because he started to write down something on a piece of paper. "I don't know how long, but we won't be staying too long."

"Yeah she loved it." Sam's voice sounded hoarse, yet there was evident affection there.

"Okay, I will. Thanks J."

"Who was it?"

"Jodie," Sam answered without facing Dean. "Jess' funeral..." Sam looked at the paper. "...it's this Friday."

_Two days from now_.

No wonder Sam sounded so terrified, it would be the last time he would get to see Jessica.

To say goodbye.

If Dean could have, he would have protected Sam from that kind of pain, that pain he knew Sam was already experiencing.

"We need to look for Dad, Dean."

_There it was._

Sam had a fierce glint in his eye, something that he tried to replace the pain with.

Something Dean was pretty sure he had seen before. In his father's eyes.

Only Sam's eyes were edged with so much pain, it was hard to detect which was what, but he knew what that look meant.

Revenge.

"We will, Sammy." Dean looked at his brother. "But maybe we should..."

Sam cut him off. "We have to find him now, he's the only one..." Sam looked away. "He's the only one who knows how to kill it."

"Whoa, easy there, Tiger." Dean looked into Sam's serious eyes. "We will find him, but until then the only thing we can do is check out this place, if anything's happened this past month. You know the deal."

"Fine."

"Fine," Dean echoed, reaching down into his bag and digging up a laptop. "See if you find something." He handed it over to Sam, who took it and looked as if he remembered something. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

Dean pushed down the feeling of irritation that sneaked it's way into his head.

He saw Sam opening the laptop and starting it, and he hoped that this would be something that could take his mind off what had happened to his girlfriend.

When Mary had died, Dean remembered how busy his dad had suddenly become.

With everything.

It was the supernatural. It was looking for information about the house. It was just anything and everything.

Maybe this way, Sam would have something else to focus on.

In the late afternoon the diner next to the motel was almost empty.

Sam hadn't touched his food, but was still reading something on the computer. "I think I have found something, Dean."

But Dean slammed the computer shut. "It can wait."

"What the hell are you doing?"

"I'm not gonna have you pass out on me, leaving me to carry your ass," Dean smirked, before turning serious. "You need to eat something, Sam."

"I'm not hungry," Sam replied.

"Well," Dean said. "It's not optional. You're gonna eat."

Sam started picking on the salad he had ordered, slowly eating it.

"That's my boy," Dean said, and there was a trace of pride in his voice.

"It tastes funny," Sam muttered under his breath.

Dean laughed at him. "I swear, you were never this picky as a kid."

"Like you would know."

"I would actually," Dean smirked, thinking about how Sam always wanted to taste his food when he was a kid.

**oooOOOooo**

"_Dean, watch your brother," John Winchester ordered his son._

"_Okay, Dad," Dean __answered, trying to grab his 5-year-old brother who was currently under their table. "Sammy, what are you doing?"_

"_It looks funnier here, Dean," his brother informed him._

"_You're not supposed to be down there, kiddo," Dean told him. "Come on." _

"_Can I have your fries Dean?" Sam crawled into Dean's lap._

"_Sure, Buddy." _

"_What is Daddy doing?" Sam, asked while eating happily._

"_He's just gonna take care of something."_

"_Do you think he wants fries?"_

_Dean laughed. "Nah, I don't think so."_

"_I like them. They taste funny." Sam seemed to consider something for a moment. "Do you want some?"_

**oooOOOooo**

The funeral was a quiet cermony.

But the words relating to Jess sounded dry, and could never do jutice to what Jessica Moore had been like, or how she was able to touch every person who walked into her life.

Sam supposed the cermony was beautiful, and yet he couldn't see what was so beautiful about it. What was so beautiful about it?

Jessica Moore was dead.

She wouldn't come back.

And Sam felt as if he was fading away, more and more with each day.

What was so damn beautiful about that?

He felt cold. He was shivering. He felt like he was looking down at himself from somewhere else, looking down at someone that wasn't Sam anymore.

Because the fire had taken him with it.

He stayed behind when everyone else had left.

Sam had spoken to the Moore's, expressing how sorry he was for what happened.

Silently he wondered what they would say to him if they knew.

If they knew about what part Sam had played in their daughter's death. Would Mrs. Moore still hug him as if he was a part of her family? Would Mr. Moore regard him like he had done?

Sam didn't know.

But Sam knew he had to give back the thing that was theirs by right. He'd held onto it every single night, through every night he'd seen Jess in his dreams, praying it would help him reach her.

"This is yours," Sam whispered.

Mrs. Moore looked at the golden medallion, holding it in her hand, touching the engraved J.

"I couldn't take that, Sam," she said tearfully. "It's yours, Hon."

She reached for his hand, slipping the golden medallion into it. Mrs. Moore held on for a second longer, while looking into Sam's eyes.

There was a little smile in her eyes, as if she wanted to tell him something.

Sam wished he knew what it was, but they were too similar to Jessica's, all Sam could see was that gentleness.

"You take care of yourself now," she whispered. "I know..." her voice broke. "...I know she wanted you to be happy."

"Yeah," was all Sam could say. Tears were burning behind his eyes.

When she hugged him goodbye, Sam could see Dean standing there pretending not to look, but he had been looking at Sam ever since they had gotten there.

Now everyone else had gone. There was just that coffin and Dean standing beside him.

Dean didn't say anything.

Sam was just staring at all the flowers laying there.

They were so many, so many different colours and yet Jess wouldn't be able to see them.

What was the point?

What was the point of anything when the heart of his soul was no longer there.

There was just darkness.

Sam realized he couldn't find any words at all. Everything he had been wanting to say, just died before they reached his mouth.

The only thing he could feel were those tears, and that hollow in his heart that nothing could heal.

"I need to say something," he whispered, eyes locked on the coffin.

"You don't have to." Dean touched his shoulder. "Sam, you can do it later."

He couldn't. Sam needed to do it now. Why couldn't Dean understand that?

"No." Inside his pocket, the medallion was still there within his grasp.

"Sammy." Dean's voice was so strong, it reached him through the screaming pain in his body.

But Sam wasn't answering.

He couldn't see anything but that part of himself that seemed to slowly fade away.

**oooOOOooo**

"Look at this." Sam glanced at Dean. "12 girls have gone missing every year on Friday the 13th."

"Friday the 13th?" Dean turned around to look at Sam.

"Yeah."

"Weird," Dean said. "This all happened in Cali?"

"Looks like it. Last one was in Los Angeles." Sam showed Dean the article. "What do you think?"

It was over a week since the funeral, and Sam had set his mind on finding anything that could lead them in the right direction. Either if it was finding their dad, or the thing that had taken Jess.

He wasn't picky.

"Sounds like demon material to me."

"You think it has anything to do with what happened?" Serious eyes looked into hesitant ones.

"It's worth checking out," Dean concluded. He raised one eyebrow at Sam. "You up for this?"

"Why wouldn't I be?" There was an accusation in his voice.

"Just asking, man." Dean scanned the article with his eyes. "We should check with Dad's journal before we do anything."

Sam had looked through every page of that journal, but there wasn't one thing he could find that related to Friday the 13th. And he was sure he'd looked through that thing more times than he could remember.

"There's nothing, Dean."

"You sure?" Dean asked, one brow raised. "Let me have a look."

"I'm sure," Sam said dryly. "I've looked through it about a hundred times already."

"What else did you find?"

"Only something about this Agramon, Demon of Fear. Supposedly he wants to kill 13 women, every year Friday the 13th, and it's supposed to make him more powerful."

What Sam didn't mention was the fact that the Demon of Fear could bring your greatest fear to life, how when it got close to you, it had the ability to suck fear right out of you.

If Dean knew about what Sam had just read, there was no way they would even go on this hunt.

And Sam needed to do this.

If it could get them closer to the answer about who killed his girlfriend, then he would do whatever it took.

"Doesn't sound like the thing that got Jessica, though. Friday the 13th is," Dean paused, "in two days."

"We don't know that," Sam said.

"Any way to get that address in L.A, college boy?" Dean smirked at him.

The reason why Sam thought they weren't on the wrong track was that he knew that the Demon hung around, sucking fear out of the place where he'd taken a life.

He'd read up on everything he could find, and how Jessica was connected to those plans, Sam didn't know. But if there was even one small possibility that she was, Sam would stop for nothing.

It was why they were heading for L.A.

Sam had spent an hour trying to convince Dean that this was the right thing to do.

Now he started to think Dean might know more about this Demon than he let on.

As he looked at his older brother, he could see that tight set to his jaw, but his eyes held an unreadable expression. Somehow it looked familiar, but he couldn't put his finger on it.

It didn't matter. Nothing seemed to matter right now.

The only thing that mattered was that he was one step closer to knowing something more. Something more that could lead him to the one who had seen Jess in the last minutes of her life.

The place wasn't hard to find.

Among the other houses, there only seemed to be one that had been visited by destruction. It was the house that was furthest away, but closest to the creatures always lurking in the darkness.

Smoke was still coming from the house, which now lay in ruins.

The black Impala was a shiny cloud of black compared to the black dust covering the ground.

"Let's go," Dean muttered.

As Dean looked over his shoulder at the Impala, Sam thought it looked like an owl, just sitting there waiting for them to return.

Its eyes were spying into the night for something that would mean danger.

Smoke was still coming from the house, which looked like it had been something of a castle. The ground covered more space than Sam had ever seen. The once green grass was now a sharp color of black.

The forest to the left side was lost in the dark, the green color no longer discernable. It was just a black vast mass of trees. A white ball could barely be seen through the branches. Its shine wasn't reaching them. It was just hovering somewhere up there in a sky swept by stars.

There was a wind softly blowing, as if trying to reach through Sam. It was something so chilling, Sam felt as if an icy fist was clutching at what was left of his heart. If blood could freeze, then his would. It was exactly like having ice in your blood.

Sam could almost hear something whispering to him, but what he couldn't hear. All he knew was that it was coming from far away, but it made something stir deep within him.

"Sam!"

"What?"

"Didn't you hear me?" Dean asked, irritation now evident in his voice. "You need to stay focused."

"Whatever," Sam muttered.

"I mean it, Sam! You gotta be careful," Dean told him firmly. "This Demon might show you something that isn't true, and you can't listen to that. You got it?"

Sam only ignored his brother.

His mind was trying to hear that voice he knew was coming from those trees. It was calling out to him, and the only thing he needed to do was to get closer to it. If he could follow it...

"Sam?"

It was almost echoing around him, that sound of a stone falling into the water. When you hear that soft plunge into the water, right before everything becomes still and silent.

Every thought of the voice disappeared when he could feel something grab his arm roughly.

Now he knew what that expression in Dean's eyes meant. He'd seen it before in his father's eyes.

Anger.

Dean's eyes were a stormy green, a typhoon was raging in them. They seemed to be regard Sam's every move. There was a sharpness there Sam didn't think he had ever seen before.

"Alright, give me that incantation." Dean held out his hand.

Sam stared straight into Dean's eyes definatly. "What, you think I can't do it?"

"I didn't say that," Dean said, his voice turning low.

"You were thinking it," Sam accused.

"What exactly do you plan to do then?" Dean asked, his voice transparent with suspicion.

As Sam was about to answer Dean had pushed himself in front of him but Sam could still see it. It was a woman, she was moving faster than lightning, but her red eyes were like beacons in the night.

"I'm going after it," Sam said, not offering any other explanation.

Dean stared at him a long time before saying something. "Forget it."

But Dean's voice suddlenly seemed to disappear somewhere in the darkness. It wasn't reaching him anymore, Sam barely noticed anything from where he was standing.

Everything except one thing.

The flying blonde hair flashing in the darkness, the figure of someone looking like a fairy, glowing in the night and diappearing between the shadows.

_Jess._

She was here.

It was her voice that had been echoing inside him, awaking something that had once been alive. It was echoing in the air around him, it was in the wind that blowed his way.

Without another thought in his mind Sam followed the shadow that had seemed to shine for a second.

He ran towards the direction where she had gone, into that deep forest.

Sam needed to see that light again, that glow that made his heart beat a little faster.

It was all that mattered, the only thought that was existing in his mind.

"Sammy? SAM!" Dean screamed.

He wasn't deaf. Sam heard him clearly, but his brother's voice was growing distant. There was too much space in between. It was something that lingered in his mind, but all he could do was push it to the back of his head.

Sam needed to see her.

The forest was even darker than he'd thought, but now he could see that clear white moon shining light wherever it could reach. Some places were still hidden in the darkness, making it hard to see anything.

As everything seemed to close around him, Sam found that he didn't care. He'd become used to darkness that would never go away. It would be there in his mind, like an endless night.

Then he saw it.

It was a shadow, but it was so strong that this time he knew exactly where it was. It wasn't even moving, just standing there waiting for something.

Slowly, as Sam started to get closer, he felt how the wind seemed to blow stronger in the center of the forest. A wind was blowing right through his clothes, and into his skin.

Sam was right behind her now, close enough to see that hair he'd once felt, every time he'd held her close to his body. Her warmth had always had a way of chasing away all the shadows he seemed to be carrying inside.

As she turned around, Sam didn't even realize that he was holding his breath. " Jess," he whispered breathlessly.

"Sam," she said.

It wasn't really clear to him what she was, if she was a shadow of something, or if it really was...if she really was...

Only then did he notice her dress.

It was as white as fresh snow, making her glow in the dark. If he wasn't mistaken, it was the very dress she'd wore to their first dance together.

But then there was something wrong with her voice, something he'd never heard before.

The wind was carrying her whisper. "Why did you do it?"

"Do what?"

"You know what you did, Sam," she said, in a voice so cold that it was chilling. "You let me burn. It was you who killed me."

"No..." Sam tried to say, but it was barely a whisper.

Now Sam could see that there was something wrong with those eyes that had once been so blue, so clear, that it was like diving into the ocean everytime she looked at him.

But now they had turned grey, and all he could see was the crushed ice in her eyes.

His nightmare had somehow come true.

"Jess..." he tried.

Sam had to make this right. He had to. Anything else was unthinkable.

"Were you really that selfish that you couldn't have told me? Didn't you want to save me?"

"I swear Jess..."

"What good will your swearing do, when I'm dead?"

It was like breathing through an icy fog.

"I'm sorry, Jess," Sam whispered, feeling as if he couldn't get any air. "I was trying to protect you."

"Who do you really think you're fooling?" she looked straight into his eyes. "You let me burn, even though you had those dreams. If you had wanted to, you could have saved me."

Her voice was starting to shake, and for the first time Sam realized that it wasn't with sadness, but with cold fury.

"I'm so sorry. I wish..."

"Wish what? You had your chance Sam. You could have told me. But your secrets were more important than me, weren't they?" Her voice was screaming in his head, echoing.

"They weren't. I promise..."

She cut him off. "Do you know what it's like to burn?"

Sam didn't want to listen, and yet he couldn't turn away. Somehow all he could see was Jessica Moore, his girlfriend, and not the distorted version of her.

He never noticed how it was barely a ghost of the girl he knew, but a Demon feeding on his deepest fear.

"Jess, don't..." Sam pleaded.

"It's like having millions of knives going through your entire body, over and over again." Her voice turned low. "It never stops."

Something was starting to claw at Sam's heart, not letting him breathe but only feeling the utter pain that he hadn't been able to save the only girl he'd ever loved.

"It shoudn't have been me," she whispered. "It should have been you, and we both know it."

"I know," Sam said, ignoring the tears behind his eyes. "I'm sorry."

She was silent.

"Jess, please." His voice broke, and the words were barely above a whisper. "Please forgive me."

Sam couldn't stand to see her like that. He hated himself for the fact that she was dead and he was alive.

He was the one that should have been dead.

"I can't," was all she said.

There was a sound of something coming closer, and Sam could hear how branches were being crushed.

Someone was coming.

But what did it matter? Sam had known the truth ever since that fire. Nothing had changed. It would always be his fault, and his alone.

As he saw Jess, he tried to see through the words. He tried to see who was standing behind her. But he couldn't see anything but her.

What he never failed to see was that ice in her eyes, so cold, as if she had the power to freeze the veins in his body. There was an anger there, something he had never seen before.

It started to scare him, but more than anything, it started to break him into pieces.

"SAM!"

So the sound wasn't someone. It was Dean.

_It figured._

"What the..." he breathed as he approached Sam. His voice died when he saw the person standing before his brother.

Then Sam remembered.

The Demon, this was it.

It wasn't Jess. It had never been her even though it looked just like her. Sam didn't know what to think anymore. Everything was turned upside down.

His hands found the incantation, but just as his lips were forming the first word, it was ripped from him when Dean pushed him behind him.

"Dean!"

If Dean hadn't started muttering that latin incantation Sam would have, but his brother muttered it rapidly not even looking at what he was supposed to get rid of. He constantly cast sideway glances at Sam, as if he would do something that needed to be stopped.

Sam was sick of it.

He didn't need Dean's protection this time around.

And with that thought in his head, he rushed forward about to grab the latin incantation from Dean.

_It was still Jess, and Sam wouldn't let anyone try to kill Jess. _

"Sam, get back," Dean said angrily.

Sam didn't move an inch from where he was standing in front of that being that still looked like his girlfriend.

But just as the thing that looked like Jess was getting paler, the glow disappearing and being replaced by a white light, the chill inside of him seemed to disappear.

"Nooo," Sam screamed.

At that same moment, Sam could feel warmth flowing through his body, but he could also feel that pull, as if something was pulling him backwards.

And as the air started to clear in the heart of the forest, Sam started to fall backwards.

Before he even knew what was happening, he hit something so hard, it felt as if his head was cut in two.

It was as if someone had taken an axe, and hit him over the head with it, only leaving that vicious pain filling every bit of his head.

At first it had felt as if everything was going in slow motion, just like when you throw that perfect stone, waiting for it to touch the water.

You try to see it hit the surface, but it always goes too fast in the end, and you won't be able to see it from afar.

Sam knew he was just like that stone, hitting the surface too fast.

The only difference was that while the stone fell softly into the water, he fell hard against something as hard as a mountain, something hard enough to crush his brain.

What was worse was the way Dean had looked at him the moment he was done with the incantation. When he had turned around, fury wouldn't even begin to describe those emotions swimming in his eyes.

"Sam?!" It looked as if Dean couldn't see him now. His eyes were searching through the darkness.

"Ow," Sam moaned, as he lifted his head and tried to see what had caused him that kind of pain.

It was a rock.

Sam lay on his back, his eyes shut tightly in an effort to shut out the pain. There were violet spots in his head. They made him want to let go so he could slip away.

But he couldn't.

"Sammy!" Dean exclaimed, his eyes never shielding the worry there.

"I'm fine," Sam said, feeling the back of his head. The pain was starting to fade away, but as he felt the back of his head, he felt something wet.

When he saw his fingers there was definitly something dark there, something that could only be blood.

"You call this fine? You're not fine," Dean informed him harshly. "C'mon," he helped Sam stand up to look at him, but Sam only pushed him away.

"Stop treating me like I'm five," Sam muttered, irritated. "I told you I'm fine."

"What the hell is wrong with you?"

"That's none of your goddman business! Just leave me alone already," Sam said loudly, turning away from his brother.

Dean only grabbed him by the arm. "Oh believe me, when you're about to get yourself killed, it is my business!" Dean bellowed, fury flashing in his eyes.

"This has nothing to do with you, so just lay off!" Sam gritted out.

"Lay off? Are you _trying_ to kill yourself, or are you just that stupid? This isn't a game Sam!"

Sam regarded his brother quietly. It sounded as if he was talking to a 5-year-old, and it didn't make it better.

"Yeah? Everything is a game to you apparently, so don't forget that!"

"What the fuck do you think you're doing, Sam?" Dean tried to search his eyes. "What the hell is your problem?"

Sam cast his gaze downwards, staring at the damp leaves, refusing to meet Dean's alert eyes.

"Do you want to die, is that it?" Dean grabbed his jacket, forcing him to meet his eyes.

"So what if I do? It's doesn't matter anyway," Sam yelled. "I don't care."

"Oh yeah? Well I do!" Dean breathed. "And you're not dying, not as long as I'm around."

"Screw you Dean!"

Sam disentangled himself from his brother's grip, pushing him away.

"We're not done here, kid." Dean blocked his path.

It was amazing how even though Sam was literally taller, Dean could still tower over him just like when they had been kids.

"I'm not a kid!" Sam screamed through clenched teeth.

"Then stop acting like one. Because if I hear you say something like that again..." Dean warned.

"You'll do what?" huffed. "You don't get it do you? I don't care." Sam didn't care about what he saw in his brother eyes anymore. "You can do whatever you want, I'm done."

"So you're just giving up, just like that! Do you really think that's what Jess wanted?"

Sam exploded. "You don't know shit about her, so don't try to act like you knew her. You never did."

This time Sam turned his back from Dean, walking away from him.

Before he could do anything, Dean had grabbed him from behind, slamming him into a tree.

"What you need to understand is that all of this, what happened to Jess wasn't your fault." Dean never took his eyes off him.

Sam couldn't look at him. Tears were starting to rise in his eyes.

But Dean only took hold of his chin harshly, so that Sam couldn't look away. "What you saw was only fear. It wasn't Jess. You know that right?"

"Quit treating me like I'm stupid. I'm not!"

"You need to deal with this Sam. I don't care how you do it, but you have to." Dean paused. "Because if you don't, you're going to kill yourself in the process."

Sam started to say something, but Dean wouldn't let him finish.

"Even if that's what you want, I'm not letting you die."

"I don't care," Sam muttered.

"This has to stop, Sam. I'm not going to watch you fade away to nothing anymore."

"Then don't! I don't need you to watch me every hour of the day."

Dean snorted. "Yeah? Then you have to stop this bullshit, you can't live like this."

"Oh and you know everything about living? All you do is hunt, have sex occasionally and then you hunt some more."

"I'm doing what needs to be done, Sam. It's tough but someone needs to do it," Dean looked at him pointedly. "You know this."

"Why don't you go and hunt then? I don't care," he mumbled.

"Sorry," Dean said. He didn't sound sorry at all. "I can't do that."

"And why the hell not?" Sam screamed in frustration. "You know what? It doesn't matter. I'm leaving."

Dean only gripped his arms tightly, pinning them down, to keep him from going anywhere. "I thought you were the one who wanted to kill the thing that got your girlfriend."

"Haven't you been listening? _I don't care_."

"Well I do," Dean exhaled heavily. "We're going to find Dad whether you like it or not. I'm not letting you go anywhere."

In his frustration, Sam managed to break free from Dean's grip. "You're not letting me go anywhere?" Sam scoffed. "Well that's too bad, I'm going anyway."

"Oh yeah, I'd like to see you try," Dean said, his voice challenging.

It was as if all his strength was starting to leak out of him, the fight in him was disappearing, and suddenly a wave of exhaustion fell over him.

His thoughts became blurred, and he had a sudden urge to just sleep. "Can we just go?"

"Fine," Dean agreed.

As they started to walk out of the forest, Sam tried to ignore the feeling of drowsiness, so strong he didn't even know if he'd make it to the car.

Dean walked behind him, not saying a word. But he could feel the anger and frustration hanging in the air, ready to explode.

So Sam didn't say anything.

It didn't matter how tired he was. Why the hell would it matter when his soul was slowly dying?

**oooOOOooo**

It was starting to get darker outside.

The motel suddenly seemed cold, with it's dim lights and the heat that didn't reach the right warmth.

Dean was lying on the covers of his bed flipping between the channels. As Sam regarded him, it looked like he didn't even care what he was doing.

Sam knew what that felt like.

The laptop was on the little table. Sam was trying to look for something, anything that could take his mind off what he had seen today.

It didn't matter what Dean had said. Everyone who could put two and two together could figure out just how involved Sam had been in Jess' death.

In front of him, there were pages of mysterious disappearences, things Dean wanted them to hunt. But Sam couldn't look at it anymore. That feeling of drowsiness hit him harder than before. He felt as if he could sleep forever, and it still wouldn't be enough.

He could feel pain in his head if he moved it to fast. At first it wasn't really noticeable, but only moments later, he felt like his head was too heavy to lift.

As Sam went into the bathroom, he didn't notice where he was going. Stumbling he had to take hold of the door for support.

When he looked into the mirror, there was no sound of the TV anymore.

"You alright, Sam?" Dean's voice was tight and strained.

"Fine," he called out, not bothering to close the door.

The movements of his toothbrush were clumsy and not like they normally were. Sam didn't wonder about it. He knew how tired he was.

Dean seemed to turn on the TV as he walked into the room. The sound was suddenly very loud. "Sam?"

"I'm going to bed now," he said.

Dean stared at him pointedly.

"I thought I told you I was fine," Sam snapped.

Crawling into his bed, he tried to find warmth there in the hope of lessening the pain in his head.

Sam closed his eyes, trying to focus on how much he needed to sleep without those memories getting in the way.

Minutes later the room turned dark as Dean got into his bed as well. Sam wondered if it would be easier to sleep if he climbed into Dean's bed, but then he remembered the fight they had before and let if fall.

Pain was filling his head like dark waves, and suddenly the irresistable weight of sleep took over.

**oooOOOooo**

Something was moving.

It was either in his dream, or it was in their room.

Blinking, Dean quickly scanned the room while trying to wake up.

There was nothing.

The glowing numbers beside him informed Dean that it was only 6 AM. Normally, when he was hunting, this was when he'd already be up, or at least trying to get up.

But normally didn't occur anymore, especially not since Sam had lost his girlfriend. Then black had turned into white and everything had turned around.

Throwing a glance at his brother, he noticed that Sam looked somewhat peaceful, only moving slightly.

Dean silently wondered how long it would last.

Just a few nights ago, he'd tried to convince Sam to take some sleeping pills so he would be able to sleep. It hadn't really surprised him when Sam had turned down the offer.

**oooOOOooo**

"_Don't you want to sleep for more than two hours?" Dean had asked, one morning when Sam had woken up pale from lack of sleep._

"_Yeah, but I'm not taking those."_

"_Yeah? Why not?"_

"_They won't work," Sam muttered._

"_Sam," Dean sighed. "There's nothing dangerous about taking these if you can't sleep," he said._

"_If that's what you're worried about."_

"_It's not," Sam mumbled._

"_Then what is it?"_

_Sam had looked up at Dean, with that deep emotion in those brown eyes, but he didn't say anything._

"_You don't understand."_

**oooOOOooo**

Apparently he didn't.

Sam had only used those pills for one night, but after that he'd preferred having those nightmares, sleep only coming to him when exhaustion haunted him.

All thoughts of sleep disappeared when Dean realized he wouldn't be able to fall asleep now that he was wide awake.

Instead of trying to settle in behind the covers, Dean headed for a hot shower.

There was something soothing about the hot water falling down, just like Dean didn't mind when the rain fell all around the Imapala as they drove. It was like a layer of protection shielding them.

Sam had been agitated when he went to bed last night. He supposed that was why he went to bed earlier than usual.

Lately Sam had wanted to stay up late, maybe even the entire night just staring at that computer.

Dean knew better.

It was just another distraction, another distraction that would keep the thoughts of Jess at bay. The memories that seemed to haunt his little brother were constantly visible in Sam's eyes, no matter how hard he tried to hide it.

What he didn't know was how deep those wounds were, how Jess seemed to have that part of Sam's heart that he wouldn't be able to reach no matter how hard he tried.

Once, Dean had been able to see all the colors of Sam's soul in his eyes. Now, there was just a dark cloud veiling them, and nothing could take it away.

When Dean was ready to wake up Sam, it was already 12 PM. It had to be some kind of record, even for them.

He decided it was time to get rid of that loaded tension hanging in the air around them. It was starting to get heavy. A part of him wanted to shake Sam to make him snap out of whatever dark cloud he had covered himself in.

If Sam continued to blame himself like he had apparently done ever since Jess had disappeared in those golden flames, it would be the end for both of them.

"Sam, you awake?"

His brother only moved a tiny inch.

_You really don't want to test me today, Sammy._

"Sammy!"

"Uh," Sam mumbled in his sleep.

Dean lifted the covers slightly to make Sam wake up. "Come on, you can't lie here all day."

When Sam opened his eyes they weren't clear, but rather hazy. "I can."

Five minutes later Sam slowly started to move out of his bed.

"We can go out and eat today. It's late," Dean said, searching the drawer for one of Sam's sweaters.

Sam was quiet.

"...I'm telling ya, it's better than staying in here," Dean continued.

The only thing Dean heard was a loud crash.

When Dean turned around, Sam wasn't in his line of vision anymore.

"Sam...SAM!"

He was behind the bed, lying on his back. Dean's heart was starting to slam in his chest.

There on the floor, his little brother was lying, as if he had an earthquake vibrating through his entire body, stretching it out. Sam's body was twitching, hands jerking out of control. It was almost as if waves of electricty were going through his body.

The worst part was that there was nothing Dean could do about it.

"Hey," Dean called out desperately. "Sammy, try to breathe, okay?" Dean's hand brushed Sam's brow, feeling a damp coolness under his hand.

Whatever was happening, it was starting to tighten Dean's chest with fear.

Sam was turning blue, his breathing deep but ragged. His eyes were starting to close, eyelashes now touching his cheeks.

"Easy, kiddo. Take it easy," Dean said, hoping his words would reach Sam somehow.

Somewhere, Dean remembered hearing that you should speak calmy and never scream when this was happening.

His words didn't seem to do anything but worsen the situation. Sam's breaths were transforming into shallow wheezes, as if he was suffocating.

"Sammy, c'mon, don't do this!"

Dean tried to grab Sam, in an attempt to steady him by holding him closer for physical contact.

But nothing seemed to be working.

Sam was slowly slipping away from him, causing an explosion in Dean's heart, panic settling there like fireworks. The only thing he could see was Sam's body, how hard it was shaking, and how nothing he did seemed to stop it.

"Sam, you gotta stay with me, man," Dean whispered into the brown curls.

Terror was lingering in the air when the only voice he heard was his own. "SAM!"

There was no answer. There was only the weight of his brother in his arms, still and quiet.

**oooOOOooo**

Well hit that button and tell me what you think :)


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: **Thanks for all the wonderful reviews.

**

* * *

****THROUGH FIRE**

_Chapter 3 _

As his mind started to work on half-speed, he fumbled for his phone as fast as he could, dialling 911.

A voice answered, but Dean could barely register what she was saying.

"It's my m-my brother. He's not b-breathing," Dean panted, as if he had been running for hours.

"Are you able to perform CPR? Have you ever done it before?" The female voice on the other line asked.

_CPR. Why the hell hadn't he thought of that?_

"Yeah, I have."

"Do you need assistance by phone?"

"No," Dean breathed, realizing he was wasting time his brother didn't have.

"An ambulance will be there shortly..." Her voice was fading away when Dean focused his attention on Sam.

After muttering the address, Dean threw away his phone.

He placed Sam in a position that enabled him to tilt his head back, to listen for any sound of breathing, any sign of life in there. Dean soon found that there was the tiniest pulse, so weak it sounded as if it would stop any minute now.

The only thing he could do was start breathing his air into Sam's mouth.

_God._

"C'mon, Sammy," he whispered, as he blew more air into Sam's mouth.

His mind was captured in a hazy cloud of fear and panic, where time seemed to have stopped. He no longer had any sense of how much time had passed after he had made that phone call.

It didn't matter.

Everything that mattered now was that he got to see Sam breathing again, to hear that warmth that always existed when his brother was breathing.

This was never supposed to be happening. It couldn't.

The only thing Dean could do was continue doing the same thing, over and over, in the hope that it would wake Sam up. Dean's brain didn't seem to be working properly, every movement he was doing was automatic, something that had been etched into his mind.

Nothing was happening.

Sam's chest wasn't rising. It was just as still as it had been when he'd suddenly stopped breathing.

Rechecking the pulse didn't help. Nothing seemed to help Sam anymore. Still, Dean couldn't stop. If he stopped, it would be like giving up on his baby brother.

Dean would never give up on Sam.

Never stopping to breathe air into Sam, Dean was trying to hear that pulse getting stronger, that pulse he seemed to have taken for granted. He knew he would never do it again, if only Sam would wake up.

Quite suddenly Sam was coughing, the sound of his voice terribly hoarse but there was definitly a stronger pulse now.

Sam blinked. "W-what?" he stuttered, his eyes trying to regain focus.

"You almost gave me a heart attack, kid."

"S-sorry."

Dean breathed a sigh of relief. "Not your fault, Sammy."

"I...I w-wanna..." Sam's breath was shallow and heavy.

"What do you want?" Dean asked gently.

"C-can't I...I c-can't..." Now those breaths weren't puffs anymore but something constricting in Sam's throat.

"Sam?" Dean tried. "Just hold on a little longer, okay?"

But Sam's breaths weren't shallow or anything anymore. They were disappearing slowly as Sam's eyes were acting strange.

"Sammy!"

But there was nothing there. Sam was unconscious and he wasn't breathing.

_This isn't happening._

Dean wanted to scream, but he couldn't. Sam needed him, maybe in a way he had never needed him before and Dean could not ignore that.

The door opened as three paramedics were moving forward, their eyes on his little brother lying on the floor.

As they started to take over, they worked quickly, lifting Sam onto a stretcher and carrying him.

It was like someone had taken over his job, because he couldn't do it anymore.

All Dean could do was follow them, as he pushed away all the selfish emotions he was feeling at that moment. Sam needed medical help, and he needed it now.

How serious it was Dean didn't know, didn't want to know, but he realized on what level when someone told him that he could meet them at the hospital.

_No fucking way. _

"I'm going with you," Dean said, trying hard not to act in a way he was used to.

Without waiting for an answer, Dean climbed into the ambulance where Sam was lying, hooked onto what looked like those cardiac monitors.

What he saw made his stomach fill with ice.

There it was, the weakest of pulses, almost nothing at all.

When the ambulance door shut closed, Dean could only watch as they started to work on his unconscious brother, trying to get a stronger pulse.

"No gag reflex," one of them said.

The only female had taken a breathing tube and intubated Sam, while someone else took one of those Ambu bags to give Sam the air he couldn't produce on his own.

"To protect his airway," she said when Dean stared at her.

Rob, the guy next to Dean was constantly checking the monitor for any change.

There wasn't any.

_Sammy, please._

"What's his name?" the female voice cut into his thoughts.

"Sammy," Dean said hoarsely. "Sam."

As Rob continued to squeeze the bag for more air, Dean's hand had closed around Sam's in an attempt to get closer to his brother. If Sam could feel Dean's pulse, then maybe his pulse would become more alive.

"You can't give up, Sam," he whispered, one hand brushing away the brown strands from Sam's eyes.

He felt out of place where he sat, trying to reach Sam while he had no control over what was happening. Dean himself, felt as if his heart was stuck, as if he wouldn't be able to breathe normally if Sam couldn't.

"Normal sinus," the woman said, sounding relieved.

At the monitor Dean noticed how the pulse seemed to change, steadily changing to what looked like normal.

It felt like the ice in his stomach was melting, no longer freezing him. Sam was breathing, and if he was breathing that would mean the worst was over.

"Has this ever happened before?" Rob asked him, as he was taking Sam's blood pressure.

"No," Dean said, his eyes on Sam's face that still looked too pale. "Is he going to wake up?"

"Well," the paramedic replied. "We don't know yet. His vitals look stable."

_Dude, I'm not stupid._

"His whole body shook. What does that mean?"

"He seized?" It was the woman. "Was it sudden and unexpected?"

"Yeah. It's never happened before."

"What happened before he seized?"

Dean had to think for a moment as everything was kind of fuzzy. "He just got outta bed."

Then it hit him. Something had happened the other night, while they were hunting.

When Sam had become reckless trying to protect the thing he thought was Jessica, he had fallen. Dean hadn't been aware of how hard or what had been there. It was too dark. Sam hadn't told him how serious it was, and Dean had ignored it because Sam had wanted him too.

He should have protected him.

"The other night he fell. It was too dark to see anything." Dean hoped they would tell him that it wasn't because of the fall, that it was something different.

_But somehow he knew._

"Was he unconscious at that point?"

If Dean was honest he didn't remember. He just remembered Sam crashing down, but he never saw if his head hit something. But what if he had been unconscious and hit something solid?

It felt like a punch to the stomach when Dean realized that he could have prevented this. He could have kept Sam from falling.

_But he didn't._

"I can't remember," Dean replied, his eyes still glued onto Sam.

Dean had been too angry with Sam to notice how much damage had been done, and now here he was not being able to breathe on his own.

There was a voice inside his head that whispered what he knew was the truth.

It had been his fault. Had he paid more attention, Sam wouldn't have fallen.

The paramedic was speaking. "How was he acting when he came to?"

_Pissed._

"Normal. Couldn't see anything different," Dean said, his throat dry. "Why?"

Rob picked up the radio, no doubt calling the hospital. "Medical Control? Yeah, got a head trauma coming in. Have someone there to meet us."

_Head trauma._

It was echoing in his head, realizing that this was more serious than he'd been prepared for.

"Once he's evaluated, you'll know," the woman gave him a little smile.

Dean couldn't smile. It hurt his muscles when he tried, and even if he tried he wasn't quite sure how to produce one yet.

The ambulance was rushing into the parking lot of the emergency entrance where doctors were waiting. As they stopped, they rolled Sam out where two doctors met them, helping Sam into the ER.

Dean couldn't keep his eyes off his brother, the mere thought that something would happen to him when he wasn't looking was still haunting him.

"What have we got?" The doctor to Dean's left asked, as they were going through the double doors to the ER.

It was with a sense of dread that he walked by Sam's side, into the ER where white coats were swishing past him like ghosts.

"Sam Conners. 22 years old. Head trauma causing grand mal seizure," the female paramedic told him. "No symptoms until today."

"How was he injured?"

"He fell," Dean replied, watching carefully for some kind of reaction.

"You are?" The doctor turned to Dean.

"Brother," Dean said a bit defensively. "Dean."

"Alright, Dean," the doctor said. "I'm Dr. Bill Williams. We're going to order a CT-scan to assess the extent of damage that has been done."

Dr. Williams then rubbed Sam's chest with his knuckles as if he was waiting for something to happen, but there was no reaction from Sam.

The other doctor who stood close to Dean was currently lifting Sam's eyelids checking the pupils. "He's got a GCS of 12."

Dean had no idea what it meant but if the looks the two doctors exchanged was anything to go on, it meant that it wasn't good.

Dr. Williams then proceeded to attach a tiny plastic tube to Sam arm, into which he pushed something that made a liquid go into Sam's body.

"What's that?" Dean demanded.

"Dilantin," he answered. "Anti-seizure medicine," he added when Dean still looked at the liquid flowing into Sam's body.

Dean sighed.

He suddenly found the need to know everything that was happening to Sam, whatever it was.

It was simply his job to know it.

As the paramedics left, the two doctors were taking Sam to the third floor for the CT-scan.

When Dean looked at Sam, he was suddenly hit by how terribly pale he looked. There was something fragile about his appearance that Dean had never seen since Sam was little.

He could tell that the doctors were extremely good at what they were doing. He knew he should feel more at ease now knowing that Sam would get medical care.

Yet, as they stepped out of the elevator to roll Sam to the ward, he felt hesitant. Dean was about to hand over Sam's life to someone else, someone whose life wasn't as intertwined to Sam's as Dean's had always been.

Dr. Williams signed a paper, handed it over to the nurse who was sitting behind the glass, before turning to look at Dean.

"As soon as we get the results, we'll know what to do next."

"How long will it take?" Dean wondered.

"Shouldn't take long."

Dean wanted more answers.

How long exactly would it take for Sam to wake up, and just how serious was it?

They were questions no one could answer right now, and Dean just had to get used to the fact that he had to wait for someone to tell him what was happening to Sam.

Dr. Williams was the doctor who would stay with Sam, while the other doctor was probably heading down to the ER entrance to meet more emergency cases.

It was unreal. Hours ago he'd fought with Sam, worried about his safety and was angry over the evident recklessness in Sam's actions.

He hadn't been able to see the signs, when they had been right there in front of him, the sudden drowsiness, the way Sam's pupils had looked the moment he had woken up.

_And he hadn't seen it._

Dean hadn't even bothered to figure out what was behind those actions, only assuming they had to do with the misery that had surrounded him after Jessica had died.

Staring at the words _Computed Tomography Scan _on the sign outside the room, Dean wondered how long it would take for their return.

The thought had barely left his mind when Dr. Williams started to roll Sam inside the room, preparing to lift him to the CT-table.

But Dean had always carried Sam, ever since they were kids, and he didn't care about the fact that he wasn't a doctor. If anyone was going to lift Sam, it would be Dean.

When Sam was on the blue mattress on the table, the doctor arranged Sam's IV, and checked that the breathing tube was secure.

Dean took one moment to look at Sam before he went outside, wanting to tell him something but he settled for giving his hand a little squeeze.

"I'm afraid you'll have to wait outside," Dr. Williams said to Dean. "This will be quick," he added, when Dean wasn't moving.

Reluctantly, Dean walked out of the room, hearing how the doctor called instructions about starting the machine.

"Everything's clear," he said, apparently giving a sign to the nurse.

Before closing the door, Dean could see how the table of the CT machine started to move with a loud noisy sound, sending Sam further into the machine.

It had barely gone ten minutes before Sam was rolled out of the room, and Dean tightened his fingers around the metal bars on his bed.

While Dr. Williams went into the room where the results came, Dean could feel his chest knot with anxiety about what was showing on the scan.

Ten minutes later the doctor came out, scan in his hand, but there was something in his eyes Dean couldn't quite read.

"We found something in your brother's brain," Dr. Williams said. "It's a subdural hematoma, which requires emergency surgery, otherwise there's a high chance of brain damage."

"What does that mean?" Dean needed to know.

The doctor paused before speaking again. "It means that a blood vessel ruptured between the brain and the dura." When Dean looked at him questioningly, he added, "The layer that protects the brain."

"So how come the symptoms didn't show right after the fall?"

"When the blood leaks out and forms a clot, it can press against the brain tissue, causing the symptoms to show from a few hours to a few weeks after the injury," Dr. Williams explained.

Dean looked at Sam. It was hard to think that he might not be the same if he didn't have surgery. "But he'll be okay after the surgery?"

The doctor scribbled something down on his clipboard. "If the surgery is successful, there's a good chance that he will be alright when he wakes up."

"And if it isn't?" Dean demanded.

"Then there might be complications, but the most important thing right now is to get your brother to surgery."

The surgery was scheduled to take place as soon as an operating room was available. Dean was told it wouldn't be a long wait.

A nurse had been preparing Sam before the neurosurgeon who would perform the surgery came in.

He wanted to check on Sam before he was taken to surgery. Dean watched the neurosurgeon carefully as he scribbled down notes after he felt Sam's head with his fingers.

"Do you have any questions about the surgery?" He turned to Dean.

"What exactly are you going to do?"

Dean had too many questions rolling around in his head. It wasn't something he was used to. Usually, Sam was the one that needed all the answers to get a better understanding of something.

"Well." the surgeon put away his clipboard. "We are going to perform a burr hole operation, which means we are going to drill a hole in the head to drain the clot."

"How long will it take?"

"If there are no complications then one to two hours. It's fairly quick."

Taking a deep breath, Dean tried to keep the fear out of his voice when he asked the question about the possible outcome.

"What will happen if there are complications?"

"There is always a risk of brain damage, which would mean he might not be able to do certain things he would normally do."

Dean closed his eyes. He didn't have to ask any further questions about what it would mean.

"But," the doctor continued, "Even if there are no complications to speak of, everyone who suffers a brain injury might have to relearn skills that are essential for your usual every day activities."

Their everyday life wasn't like everyone else's. Would that mean Sam had to give up hunting?

"Of course we won't know anything until after the surgery, but sometimes it's difficult for close relatives to watch their loved ones adjust afterwards."

"Adjust how exactly?" Dean asked, his voice getting rough.

"The most usual would be headaches, drowsiness, dizziness and seizures." The doctor picked up his clipboard again, but Dean barely noticed. "It's not unusual to feel confusion and have problems with coordination as well."

Dean didn't know what to think. He didn't even know what to hope for because maybe it would be too much. For the moment though, all he cared about was seeing Sam get better.

The neurosurgeon then gave Dean a confident smile, and Dean muttered a thank you before he left.

Dean had never felt so powerless in his life. The only thing he could do was put his faith in the doctors and hope they would make Sam better.

But as Sam lay there in his bed, a cover tucked tightly around him, Dean couldn't help but wonder what would have happened if they hadn't started hunting so soon.

"I should have protected you, Sammy," Dean whispered, his eyes fastened on those features that were forever etched into his mind.

Dean silently swore to himself that he would never fail his brother again, no matter what it would take.

When one doctor and two nurses came to roll Sam away to his surgery, Dean's chest tightened slightly.

He knew he would only get to follow Sam to a certain point, since many years ago Sam had once needed surgery for a broken arm.

The surgery was on the fourth floor. On the way there the nurse named Kelly, gave Sam some kind of medicine to make his body relax.

What was frustrating was that Dean couldn't tell how Sam felt, what he was thinking about, and he didn't even know where he was.

He'd gotten used to having Sam roll his eyes at his clever remarks, or see through his actions like no one else did, but now he couldn't reach him.

"This is as far as you can go," Kelly told Dean.

When Dean looked uncertain, she smiled at him. "We'll take good care of him."

_You better. _

He couldn't manage a smile. He only bent down and pressed his lips against Sam's dark hair. "I'm not going anywhere, Sammy," he whispered.

Dean watched as they rolled Sam away from him, into the operating room where they would perform the surgery on his brain.

**oooOOOooo**

It would take hours before Sam would be back in the recovery in the ICU.

For the past hour, Dean had walked around the corridors trying to find something to read, but his impatience wouldn't allow him to focus.

Instead, he walked outside the hospital, watching how the ambulances arrived with more patients. It was when he was staring at a girl being rolled out to the ER area, when he realized that this was the moment he should be calling their dad.

In all the haste of needing to help Sam, finding out what was wrong with him, it had slipped his mind that there was someone who needed to know what was happening with the youngest Winchester.

After hearing the familiar voice message he'd heard about a hundred times already, Dean was ready to scream in frustration.

"Dad? It's me. I'm with Sam," Dean said, swallowing the lump in his throat when he thought about where Sam was at the moment. "He got hurt, and...Dad, he's in surgery right now. I don't even..." Dean paused, trying to stop that burning sensation in his eyes. "You just need to get here," Dean gritted out. "I need you to be here...please...for Sam."

He shut the phone, wiping away the tears that kept falling.

It was as if someone had pushed him all those years back, when Dean had found himself in the hospital, with a 9-year-old little brother wanting to know why his daddy wasn't there.

**oooOOOooo**

"_He'll be here Sam. I promise."_

"_You said he would be here an hour ago!" Sam looked close to tears._

_Dean silently wondered if it was because the painkillers were wearing off, or because of their father's absence._

"_You know what it's like when he's out there. It'll just take a while," Dean said, zapping through the channels of the little TV in Sam's room._

"_I don't want to have a surgery," Sam whispered. _

"_I know you don't, but if you don't have it, you're gonna have a broken arm, and you don't want that, Sammy." Dean looked at the clock, realizing they only had one hour to go._

"_Why can't they just put it in those cast things?"_

"_Because they need to readjust the bones, Sam." Dean answered. "Remind me to kill that Matt guy when we get back.."_

"_It wasn't his fault."_

"_Oh so he didn't step on your arm?" Dean glanced at Sam._

"_I shoulda stayed out of his way."_

"_It wasn't your fault he's a stupid..."_

"_Dean..." Sam said seriously._

"_Yeah?"_

"_Will you be there with me?" Solemn brown eyes full of innocence stared at him, with an emotion so powerful, Dean was sure it'd make a hole in his heart._

"_I'll walk as far as they'll let me."_

_Sam continued to stare at him, but now there was a shyness there._

"_What is it, kiddo?"_

"_Am I gonna die?"_

_The question took him completely by surprise. "No! Why would you think that?"_

"_I read...I read that you could die during a surgery."_

"_Sammy, you're not gonna die. And where did you read that?"_

"_In a journal."_

_Dean sat on the edge of Sam's bed. "Okay, well it's not true, alright? Did you know that there will be one person there who will always look at your heart on a screen, so that nothing will happen?"_

"_But how can she look at my heart?"_

_Dean only knew how because he'd read about it earlier. "They put these things on your skin, and those will tell a monitor how fast your heart beats."_

"_Are you going to be here when I get back?" Sam asked carefully._

"_I'm not going anywhere, Sammy."_

**oooOOOooo**

The ICU was located on the fifth floor. Dean had to ask a nurse, only to find out Sam hadn't arrived there yet.

It would have been okay if Dean hadn't had that heavy feeling that something wasn't right. But he pushed it away, because he didn't have time to be negative right now.

Instead he would check his phone constantly, but there was nothing there, no new messages.

When it had gone another half an hour, Dean went up to the desk where a pretty nurse was sitting.

"Do you know when Sam Win..Conners will arrive in the ICU?" He silently cursed, for almost blowing his cover.

"He's not due for another twenty minutes, hon."

"Do you know which room?"

She typed something into her computer before looking at the screen. "C 213."

"Alright, thanks."

Dean suspected he would go crazy if he sat and waited in the area of the ICU, which was why he headed to the cafeteria for coffee. He suspected he would need to stay awake for a long time anyway.

**oooOOOooo**

The moment Dean got back, he looked for Sam's room, finding that a doctor was standing in the doorway.

He turned around when he noticed Dean. "Hello, just wanted to let you know about the surgery."

"How did it go?" Dean's heart was starting to slam almost painfully in his chest.

"It went well. The clot was a little bigger then we'd thought which is why it took a while," the doctor told him. "Now, I've put him on a Mannitol IV, which should help control brain swelling."

Dean just wanted Sam to wake up. "When do you expect he'll wake?"

"We're really hopeful that he'll wake up within the night or next day, but it's up to him now."

"Thanks," Dean said, feeling grateful that the surgery had been successful.

"You should talk to him. It usually helps." He turned to walk, but then he turned around. "I'll be back in two hours to check on him."

A nurse called Mariah was going to monitor Sam, and take his vitals every hour. She had a pretty face, with dark braided hair.

Dean only noticed how she was arranging the liquid dripping from a bag and into Sam's arm.

"How's he doing?"

"Oh he's doing okay," she said, when she noticed him. "His vitals are looking fine."

"That's good," Dean said, but not really seeing her. He was looking at the monitor that showed Sam's heart.

"As long as his vitals are fine, he should wake up in the next 24 hours." She gave him a gentle smile. "I'll be back in a while."

Dean let his hand secure the blanket around Sam. "You don't know what you're missing, Sammy. That nurse of yours is hot."

He looked at Sam, almost waiting for him to wake up and roll his eyes at him, but he didn't. There was no response at all.

"You have to wake up, Sam. Wherever you are, you need to get outta there." Dean sighed. "It won't look good if Dad comes and sees you like this. He will have my ass." Dean's hand felt for Sam's, his skin still almost ghostly pale.

There was no sound in the darkened room, nothing except the humming of the monitors connected to machines, next to Sam's bed.

If there was only a matter of time before Sam would wake, then Dean would wait. Sleep wasn't important to him anyway, not when the person lying next to him could wake up.

Every now and then, Dean would glance at those machines. The shock of finding Sam on the floor, not breathing, was something he couldn't easily forget.

It was close to impossible to forget that stark terror he'd experienced earlier that day.

The phone lying in his pocket had been turned off, due to low battery and the fact that they would interfere with the machines.

Every minute he'd been waiting for Sam, he'd tried his father's number. He'd tried it so many times that the sound of his voice only brought up new emotions of resentment.

"You've reached John Winchester, I'm..."

Dean hadn't even bothered to leave a message, because at this point John Winchester must have gotten the point that Dean was getting desperate to hear from him.

As he saw Sam laying before him, he wondered what was going on in his head.

Dean knew that if Sam didn't wake up soon, something might have gone wrong. Either Sam couldn't wake up or there had been some sort of complication.

While Dean knew that the surgery had been performed by a professional surgeon, he wasn't blind to the fact that the brain was sensitive and not always easy to understand.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, Dean started to wonder if their dad had really got his messages. If he had, surely nothing could be more important than being with your son who had been dangerously close to dying.

Dean had never blamed his father for his decisions, because he knew what was behind them.

_Protection._

Dean knew what it was like. After all, he had spent his life trying to take care of his little brother and while some of his actions weren't always the best, if Sam was hurt he'd do whatever he could to get to him, to help him.

"_Watch out for Sammy._"

It had meant something else to him than what his dad had meant.

It wasn't just about protecting him from whatever it was that might hurt him. Well it was that too, but it was also his job to be the one that took care of him.

His father had taught him all about protection and being prepared. Dean knew that sometimes there wasn't time for doubt or hesitance. Sometimes you just had to act first.

John never had to tell him what to do, because he knew anyway.

"_Take your brother outside as fast as you can! Don't look back! Now Dean, go!"_

From that moment, Dean was given the responsibility to save Sam from the fire that had taken their mom. He knew that Sam was his to protect.

It was his one responsibility.

Hunting had been a part of his life from early on, and he'd understood the importance of it. He knew what was expected of him, even though Sam didn't take much interest in it.

But there was nothing that would make him choose hunting over Sam.

Nothing.

So if that was what his dad was doing, it was unforgivable in his eyes.

Staring at Sam, he wished those large brown eyes would open.

"Sammy," he said. "Haven't you done enough of sleeping, huh?"

Sam didn't respond.

"Trust me, you want to wake up soon," Dean said, his thumb unconsciously circling the back of Sam's hand.

The next time he stared into Sam's face, he met two brown spheres of eyes staring at him, before closing again.

"Sam?" Dean whispered.

Was this real? Was there actually a possibility that Sam was waking up?

His safest best was probably to call for a nurse. Reaching over Sam, he grabbed the button, pushing it hard.

But when he turned to Sam, his eyes was wide open, staring at Dean as if he'd never seen him before. He made a gagging sound in his throat as if he couldn't breath. Sam reached for the tube, trying to pull out the thing that was helping him breath.

"Sam!" Dean exclaimed. "Take it easy. Just breathe through it."

Mariah came rushing into the room, followed by a doctor Dean had never seen before.

"Sam, can you relax for me?" Mariah said, soothingly. "We're going to take out the tube, alright? But you have to calm down."

When Dean looked at Sam, he was giving him those puppy dog eyes, as if he was begging him to make it better.

"I'm going to need you leave the room," the doctor said, looking at Dean as he moved closer to Sam.

Frustration wasn't even the beginning of it, as Dean saw the nurse taking Sam's blood pressure.

He considered staying anyway, but the look on the doctor's face made him push those selfish impulses away. Dean had no choice but to retreat even though he never closed the door. He left it open, allowing him to watch what the doctor was doing.

Mariah had proceeded to listen to the beating of Sam's heart, her face a mask of concentration.

"Okay, Sam, I'm going to lower the oxygen now, and if it gets too painful you let me know," he heard the doctor say.

Dean could see how Sam was trying to fight the tube, but at the same time, trying to relax. Something inside of Dean ached when he saw how hard Sam was trying.

"Now, I want you to take a deep breath."

Sam tried to take a deep breath, while Mariah listened to something Dean guessed was his lungs.

"Can you cough for me, Sam?"

The moment Sam coughed, the doctor pulled out the tube in one swift movement, replacing it with an oxygen mask.

Dean couldn't hear the rest of what the doctor was saying, as his voice had turned lower. The only thing he could see was how Sam was desperately trying to answer his questions, but reaching for his throat as if there was something there that was painful.

A few minutes later, Dean was let back into the room, which was just as well because he wouldn't have been able to stand there watching for a second longer.

As Dean came closer to Sam's bed, he could see those eyes reaching for his, as if he couldn't quite believe what he was seeing.

Relief spread through his body when he realized Sam's oxygen mask was gone, and he was now able to breathe on his own.

The doctor turned to Sam. "Do you know who this is?"

Sam looked from the doctor to Dean, as if someone was trying to trick him. When they both seemed serious he cleared his throat. "T-That's D-Dean."

After scribbling down some notes, the doctor then smiled at Sam.

"Is he going to be okay?" was the first thing that came out of Dean's mouth.

"Everything points in that direction. We have been monitoring his vitals, and they have definitely improved."

Dean noticed the name on his coat, black letters forming the name Dr. Graham. "Thank you, doc," Dean said gratefully.

"I could see no signs of brain damage or other complications, but we'll still have to monitor him closely for any changes," Dr. Graham informed Dean. "I'll be back to check on him in a little while."

Dr. Graham then turned to give instructions to the nurse, who administered something in Sam's IV before leaving with the doctor.

Pulling up a chair, Dean sat next to Sam. "I see you finally decided to wake up," Dean smirked, but his green eyes were sharp and serious.

Sam's eyes never left Dean. "I d-don't r-remember w-what ha...happened," Sam whispered, his voice jarring from having the tube in his throat.

It sounded like a knife had cut into his throat, leaving it as dry as the desert.

"It's normal, Sam."

When Sam started to cough, Dean reached for the cup of water putting a straw into it, and slipping it between Sam's lips.

Sam didn't even try to hold it himself, only taking small sips of water, before leaning back.

"Thanks," Sam mumbled.

Dean never failed to notice that weakness in Sam's eyes, in his every movement as he tried to shift position.

He traced Sam's gaze, as it was staring at the different monitors beeping away. Brown eyes were following the waves of his heart, while his hand was grabbing hold of his blanket, twisting it tightly.

"Sammy?"

Sam's eyes didn't swing to meet Dean's. They were still glued to that monitor.

"Hey," Dean said, releasing Sam's fist from the blanket. "Look at me."

Slowly, as if he was suddenly moving in slow motion, Sam turned to look at his brother.

"D-Dean," Sam whispered, brown eyes fixed on him unblinkingly.

What he was looking for, Dean couldn't see.

"Yeah, that's my name," he tried to joke. "You feeling okay?"

"I-I'm f-fine," he answered, his gaze steady on his brother.

"Does it hurt anywhere?" Dean asked attentively. "Want me to get the nurse?"

If it would become necessary, Dean moved the button closer to Sam, giving him more access.

Sam only shook his head. "I d-don't w-want a n-nurse, D-Dean."

"Alright, you tell me if it hurts though." Dean shifted in his chair slightly.

Sam wrinkled his nose.

"You hearin' me Sam?"

"I...I h-hear you."

Dean observed Sam quietly. "You know if you hadn't woken up, I'd pulled you outta wherever you were myself."

Sam rolled his eyes. "You w-wouldn't have."

"Oh, you bet your ass I would have," Dean smirked.

Fingering his bandage around his head, Sam tried to pull it up slightly.

"Sammy, don't." He gently pried away his fingers, stopping him from pulling off the white bandage. "It has to heal."

"It itches, Dean," Sam whined.

It was the first real sign Dean could see of Sam shining through, and it made his heart feel a little lighter than it had for the past hours.

"Yeah, well, it'll get worse if you take it off now."

Staring down at the blankets, Sam didn't say anything. He just sat there in the dark room oblivious to the machines he was connected to.

"D-Dean..." he whispered.

"Yeah?"

"I'm s-s-sorry."

"What for?" Dean stared at him quizzically.

Sam breathed out heavily. "It's my f-fault I...I g-got hurt."

"What makes you say that?"

"If it hadn't b-been f-for m-me, Jess w-would still be a-alive, I...I w-wouldn't b-be..."

"Okay, stop it right there," Dean cut him off. "Sam, listen to me when I say this. Her death wasn't your fault. It was horrible, yeah, but you couldn't have stopped it. No one could have."

"M-Maybe."

Forcing himself not to get frustrated with Sam, Dean wondered what it would take for Sam to start believing that sometimes bad things just happened.

Sam's eyes were glassy when he looked at Dean with a powerful expression in them. "I r-ruined the j-job."

"What job?"

Now those eyes stared at him in disbelief. "The hunt."

_The hunt._

As far as Dean was concerned, it had been his job to stop the hunt, to do anything to keep Sam from getting hurt. But instead, he'd done the opposite.

"It's not my job, Sam."

Sam threw away the button Dean had put in his lap, his fists tightening while he looked at Dean in anger.

"It's n-not your j-job to f-fix everything that g-goes wrong in m-my life, D-Dean." Brown eyes glared at him. "You c-can't take care of m-me a-all the t-time."

When Sam eyed Dean, it was as if he could see right through him.

"I'll always take care of you, Sammy," he said, the affection now translucent in his voice. "That's my job."

**oooOOOooo**

Dean didn't sleep.

How could he when he'd just gotten his baby brother back, alive and without any damage to the brain. The fear of Sam suddenly not breathing anymore was still filling every part of his mind.

It was like he was hanging onto every breath that Sam breathed.

But he could still feel the relief washing over him when he realized that Sam would be alright, just as long as he would take it easy.

After Sam had complained about his headache, Dean had called for the nurse who gave him something through the IV.

Sam had fallen asleep in barely five minutes.

As he sat there watching his brother, he realized how vulnerable Sam looked when he was sleeping. He'd always looked younger when he slept, but now when the pain wasn't far away, it was more evident.

There was nothing Dean wouldn't do for his brother.

But during the hours he had spent at the hospital, he had realized how sometimes there was nothing he could do other than make sure Sam would get the best care.

He had been told that Sam was going to need the room to be dark, as after brain surgery, you were sensitive to light.

In the darkness, the machines continued to beep, green light very softly illuminating Sam's bed.

Early morning Sam started to open his eyes, turning to his side to notice how Dean was slowly sipping on some coffee.

"Hey," he whispered, his voice still hoarse.

"Wow, seven o'clock. This has to be some kind of record for you hasn't it?" Dean smirked.

"Oh, s-shut u-up."

Dean laughed lightly.

"W-When did you w-wake u-up?" Sam looked at the couch behind him that could be made into a bed.

It was still a couch.

"Well, what can I say, Sammy. Sleep is boring."

"M-Maybe y-you should go b-back to the m-motel a-and s-sleep," Sam suggested.

"I'm going to pretend I didn't hear that."

"What? I'll b-be a-alright h-here, D-Dean."

"Yeah, sure."

Sam snickered, turning away from Dean. "Y-You c-could a-at least s-sleep when there i-is a b-bed there m-made for s-sleeping."

"We'll see."

Dean got up out of the chair he'd been sitting in all night, stretching out all those knots that were slowly starting to kill his neck.

"Dean..."

He turned around to look into Sam's face. There was a paleness there. Sam's breathing was coming out in short gasps, as if there was an invisible knife going through him.

Sam was staring at him with a burning terror. "I d-don't f-f-feel s-so..."

"Sam!"

Sam's body started thrashing wildly in his bed, his eyes rolling into the back of his head. His hands were trying to grab hold of something, but the effort of it seemed too painful.

Dean tried to hold onto him but he found it nearly impossible, and it was clear to him that Sam was having a seizure of the worst kind.

As he stared at all the machines Sam was connected to, Dean tried to figure out which monitor was the one that showed how Sam's heart was beating.

Finding the heart monitor, Dean noticed how Sam's heart was beating irregularly. The lines were beginning to get flat, and the beeps were getting slower. There were numbers on the screen, but they were only a blurred cloud when Dean looked at the lines of Sam's heart.

Dread went through him like an icy knife, as he stared at his brother, his breathing coming out even more raggedly.

"Hold on, Sammy," he whispered to Sam, as he pushed the call button, enabling him to get help. "I need a doctor in here!" He shouted out into the hall. "NOW!"

Desperation was starting to cling onto his heart, as he waited, silently wishing those doctors would hurry up already.

In seconds Mariah came rushing into the room with another nurse, moving closer to Sam's bed, rolling a crash cart into the room.

Dean faintly remembered that there were heart monitors at the nurse's station too, meaning it wouldn't have mattered if Dean had pushed that button. Someone would still come and check on Sam.

But the one thing that was in his head was that he had to help Sam, and he would do anything to get him that help.

"He's having a seizure!" Dean yelled in panic. "You've got to do something."

It had never been this bad before. It was almost as if Sam was in danger from falling off the bed. Dean was trying to reach out to him, brushing away those curly strands that stuck to his clammy forehead, but Sam wasn't responding to anything he did.

"C'mon, little brother. You can't give up."

Mariah pushed him lightly out of the way, checking Sam's status on the monitors. "You have to leave," she said, while taking out a stethoscope.

"He's my brother," Dean growled.

"There is nothing you can do for him now. We'll take it from here," the other nurse told him curtly.

"Poor respiratory effort," Mariah said. "Call the code, and page his doctor. Stat."

There was a sound from the intercom and the other nurse was speaking. "Code blue in room C 213," she said, her voice loud. "Code blue in room C 213."

"His lips are turning blue. We need to get a doctor in here, now."

Dean didn't know how long it took, but suddenly Dr. Graham was standing in the doorway, his eyes evaluating the situation. "Get me Phenobarbitol, now," he ordered.

Sam was still seizing in his bed, but Dean couldn't do anything if he wanted to. Everyone was filling up the space around Sam's bed.

What he then heard filled his stomach with ice.

"He's not breathing. His jaw is locked."

"Damn it," Dr. Williams muttered.

He injected the drug into Sam's arm. "No change. He's still seizing," Dr. Williams commented. "I need to inject him with Succinylcholine before we do anything else."

Dean had been pushed out of the room, and now he could only see what was happening through the tiny crack of the door. It was almost closed, but Dean could hear their voices.

He could guess what was happening, because the bed suddenly became still.

Sam had stopped seizing.

Carefully, Dean opened the door a few inches more to get a better view.

There was a cold chill going through him as he saw Dr. Williams in the process of intubating Sam.

Lifting Sam's chin, he inserted the airway device in his throat, before he secured the breathing tube.

Dean could see how the Ambu bag was connected to an oxygen source, enabling Sam to get the air he desperately needed.

A sadness swept over him when he thought about how Sam had cracked that smile, how he'd snickered at Dean's actions, like they were back to when it had always been Sam and Dean.

As Dr. Williams had inserted that metal instrument, all Dean could think about was how much it had to hurt Sam to have that metal thing in his throat.

Only an hour ago, Sam had been talking to him, expressing all those emotions that were stuck in his mind that kept whirling around in there.

Now he couldn't breathe on his own.

It was unreal to think how alive Sam had looked in that one moment, and now he looked so ghostly pale, as if something could grab him from the other side.

Before the door closed right in front of him, Dean caught some of the words Sam's doctor was saying.

"Neostigmine…"

The only thing Dean could do was try to see something through the blinds to his right.

If Mariah's voice had been one notch lower, he wouldn't have heard it. "His heart's stopped."

**oooOOOooo**

Please let me know what you think!


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: Again, I am sorry for the long wait. I think there will be two more chapters after this. A big thank you to all my wonderful reviewers!

* * *

**THROUGH FIRE**

_Chapter 4_

Dean felt as if someone had ripped his heart out of his chest, as if he was forced to breath through a freezing blizzard.

His body was starting to feel numb with fear knowing that this time Sam's heart had actually stopped.

He could only watch as Mariah took the defibrillator, putting gel on the paddles, before turning around to give them to Dr.Graham.

It wasn't hard to hear their voices now as Mariah positioned herself to charge.

"Charge paddles to 200."

"Charged. Clear."

As Dean drew a sharp breath, Dr. Williams delivered the shock through Sam's body.

But Sam's heart monitor was still flat lined.

"V-FIB. Nothing," the second nurse informed Dr. Williams.

"Come on, Sammy," Dean whispered.

"Charge to 300."

The shock went through Sam's body a second time, but there wasn't any change.

"19 seconds," Mariah said.

Pressing the paddles to Sam's chest, Dr. Williams shocked a third time.

Even though Dean was too far away, he could see those green lines changing. He could almost hear that sound of Sam's heart monitor beeping again.

"Sinus rhythm."

"Rate's coming back."

Dean didn't care anymore. He burst into the room, walking up to Sam's bed feeling the need to see those waves of Sam's heart beating.

When no one said anything, he couldn't help feeling that weight in the air. It was like something heavy weighing everything down.

"What's going on?" Dean turned away from Sam, looking at Dr. Williams.

"When Sam received the reversal of the paralyzing agent we gave him, he went into cardiac arrest." The doctor regarded Dean silently. "He slipped into a coma due to lack of oxygen."

Dean didn't notice how the nurses had left after doing their last check on Sam. He didn't notice how he suddenly felt like he had trouble breathing, how everything he saw was too blurred.

It was like clinging onto the last thread of hope he had, because as of right now, hope was something that was staring to slip away from him.

"When will he wake up?" Dean was surprised to hear his own voice sound so raspy.

"There's no way to know. It could take days, or it could take weeks."

"There has to be something you can do!"

"I'm afraid there isn't." His gaze drifted to Sam. "Now it's up to Sam if he wants to come back."

It sounded as if there was a clear choice, and maybe there was, but Dean knew that Sam was somewhere else right now, somewhere he had never been.

"I have examined Sam's response to pain, and I'm afraid he has no response to deep pain stimuli. He is unresponsive. I'm sorry, Mr. Conners."

"Thank you," Dean muttered, his voice hoarse.

"You can't give up on hope. The thing your brother needs right now is for you to hope for him, because he can't do it himself."

Dean thought about this for a moment.

At that very moment he couldn't remember one time when Sam had stopped hoping. He'd always tried.

"I will," Dean answered.

And he meant it. He couldn't remember ever praying, but this time he would do it if it meant it could help his brother.

"And talk to him. On some level he will hear you." He turned around with a last look at Sam. "I'll be back to check on him tomorrow. If you need anything, Mariah is here."

Dean didn't need anything.

The only thing he needed was for Sam to wake up.

The machines around him looked large compared to the boy they were connected to. Buzzing whispers were sounding as they should, but Dean couldn't help but glance at the heart monitor.

Sam looked so small under all those sheets, like he was tucked into his very own cocoon.

"Hey, kiddo," Dean finally said. "Looks like you got yourself into some trouble, huh?" He sat down on the edge of Sam's bed, reaching for Sam's hand.

Sam still had that paleness about him, even if it was no longer a ghastly white coloring his skin.

Dean cleared his throat. "I...I've been meaning to tell you that none of this is your fault, no matter what you think. It's my fault, Sam. I should have waited. I should have made you wait with hunting."

It was the truth. He knew Sam wasn't really up for that hunt, and still he let Sam decide that they were going to go hunt a Fear Demon of all things.

He'd thought it was what Sam needed, to let out all that pent up anger and guilt. Instead it had only added more, and a brain injury he shouldn't have gotten in the first place.

**oooOOOooo**

"_Sam, look, we don't even know if this is what killed Jessica in the first place. It might have been something entirely different."_

"_You don't know that," Sam said quietly._

"_And you don't either. This is a bad idea."_

"_I have to do this. I need answers, and this might be the way to get them."_

_Dean stared at his brother. "And what happens if you don't get them?"_

"_I'll worry about that later."_

"_Are you serious? There might not be a later, Sam. And I'm not letting you get your brains hacked just to get some piece of information!" Dean said in a low and even voice, like he was trying hard not to scream._

"_It doesn't matter," Sam muttered._

"_Like hell it does!" Dean fumed. "You have to overcome your fear Sam, or you can never face this thing."_

"_Don't you think I know that?" Sam grumbled. _

"_I have no idea what goes on in that head of yours," Dean said. "But I do know that this Demon takes your fear and uses it against you."_

"_I'm not stupid, Dean."_

"_This is not about being stupid and you know it," Dean accused._

"_Then what is it about?" Sam challenged._

"_Oh, don't you play smart with me, Sam!" Dean roared. "You know damn well what I'm talking about."_

_Sam eyes were flashing when they looked at him. "You're the one who won't leave me alone for one freaking second!"_

_Dean arched an eyebrow. "Can you really blame me?" _

"_If you'd just leave me alone…_

_Dean cut him off angrily. "Then what? I'm sorry if I'm not able to let you get yourself killed just yet."_

_Sam never said a word to him while Dean was driving the Impala into the darkness._

**oooOOOooo**

Dean went along with it because he knew that whatever Sam put his mind to, he'd follow through. He'd be negligent if he let Sam hunt anything alone after he'd seen what Jessica's death did to him.

But he'd never known that those words would come back and taunt him, letting him know that if had said no to Sam, he wouldn't have gotten hurt.

Now, looking at Sam, it was as if his brother was trapped under all those sheets. Those large machines were starting to look more like monsters in the dark room.

"I'm sorry, Sammy. I'm sorry I let you down," Dean whispered shakily. "We should have waited."

_Waiting._

It was all Dean could do now, everything else was out of his hands. He could hope that Sam would find his way back to him, but he also had to accept that painful wait.

If Dean hadn't been so stupid, Sam would have been here with him. Sam might have been pissed at him, but he at least he would have been breathing normally.

Why hadn't he made them wait? He should have gotten through to Sam sooner. He should have talked to him much sooner.

Why had he ignored all those signs that had been so painfully obvious? Sam had been right in front of him, trying to deal with Jessica's death by himself, simply refusing to open up to him.

Behind those eyes that sometimes looked inhumanly large, they had only held shadows of pain.

Hope had been something that was always in Sam's presence, but after his girlfriend died it had been swept away replaced by something resembling misery.

Dean had been worried it would slowly kill Sam not to open up, and it had turned out that if Dean had made more effort, Sam wouldn't be lying in a hospital bed right now.

It was Dean's fault, and his alone. He'd failed to protect that one person he'd swore he'd always look after, the one person who had always mattered more to him than anything else.

"Sammy," Dean said brokenly, moving closer to Sam's face. "You have to come back. You hear me? I don't care what it takes, but you have to come back." Dean's hand brushed away the unruly curls from Sam's eyes, as that burning sensation in his eyes returned. "How…how am I…" he faltered. "Things just aren't the same without my pain-in-the-ass little brother." Dean tried to crack a smile, but he couldn't manage it while his brother couldn't even respond.

The sight of his brother lying there, with that sound of air that wasn't his own just about shattered Dean's heart.

_What if he didn't wake up?_

Dean had pushed that thought out of his head the minute it kept resurfacing, never wanting to think about it for more than a second.

When Sam had been unconscious, that fear had kept looming over him. It was piercing itself into his mind, leaving his body numb and cold.

Just like that, it was as if Dean couldn't breathe anymore. Something had stolen all his air from his body.

It felt as if he was trying to swallow ice, but nothing happened. That large chunk of ice was just there, not moving, just reminding him of how serious everything was.

"Sammy...I'll be back okay? There is something I have to do, but I'm not leaving." It hurt to leave his brother like that. Helplessness tore at something within him. "I'll never leave you, kiddo."

_Unlike someone else. _

Even though he knew Sam was safe now, he didn't dare to be away from him too long. He just couldn't take that chance.

But there was something he had to do. It had been lurking in the back of his mind, but now when he saw Sam lying before him, he knew it couldn't wait.

Dean knew how rocky it had been between his father and brother. He'd heard every argument leading up to every fight, but he also knew that behind that bitterness for the other's actions, there was still that hidden unconditional love.

Dean had always thought that what came before hunting, before anything, was family. He'd never thought the day would come when he'd be proven wrong.

It was the reason for why he strode determinedly to the entrance of the hospital, thoughts of Sam still touching his mind.

**oooOOOooo**

The battery was only half full as his fingers hit the buttons in a rush. As he walked up the stone stairs, he could see the action of the ambulances coming with new patients.

"Hello," John Winchester answered.

Dean forced himself not to give in to that anger he felt the moment he'd heard his father answer. He didn't know the reason for why he had been absent when Sam's life had been hanging on a thread.

"Dad," Dean breathed. "It's me."

"Dean... where are you? Is Sam alright?" There was a hitch in his voice when he spoke his youngest son's name.

But Dean barely noticed. "Where the hell are you anyway?"

"I don't care much for your tone, boy."

"Yeah? I don't really give a damn," Dean said, not bothering to conceal the fury in his voice. "What can be so important that you can't pick up the phone and call!?"

"I've come closer to finding the thing that killed Mary, Dean. I can't just..."

"Why the hell not? Are you trying to tell me that hunting actually comes before finding out whether your son is alright or not?!"

"I was planning..."

But Dean cut him off again. "I guess you'll be happy to know that he's come dangerously close to dying twice now," Dean yelled. It didn't matter if it was cruel. He didn't care about what his dad was thinking right now. "He slipped into a coma yesterday."

"I'm going to try to be there, Dean."

"Try? Trying is not good enough. You're acting as if whatever you're hunting right now, is more important than your own son."

"You used to think this was important too," John growled.

"I did...I do. But nothing comes before Sam, Dad. Nothing."

When he heard his father's voice, trying to defend himself, there was a fire of rage burning within Dean.

"I'll be there, Dean." John sighed. "It'll just take..."

"You know what? Don't bother. If you're not even going to make an effort to actually be here, and show that you actually care, then you might as well not come at all.

"You're not serious!"

"Oh, I am serious." Dean was so furious, he felt like banging his fist through that white brick wall. "Just tell me one thing. Where were you when Sam needed you? Where the hell were you when he reached the bottom? Or all those other times he needed you? You weren't there, but I was. So don't you talk to me about being serious."

"He's my son, Dean."

"If you really wanted to see him, you would have."

All that anger he had once felt towards his father but pushed away, was now coming up towards the surface.

"You can't stop me from seeing Sam. It's not your choice to make."

"It is my choice. And if you try to come near him, if you try to visit, I'll kick you out myself."

"You can't do that, Dean. I need to see Sam. I'm his father," John said, seriously.

"You're not the one who's taken care of him all your life," Dean said his voice low with emotion. "I have."

"You know I had a responsibility."

"I know you did, but you had a responsibility to us too."

There was a long silence.

"For God's sake Dean, this is getting ridiculous."

"If you said that what you did was wrong, then I would have forgiven you, but you can't expect me to forgive you when you couldn't even bother to pick up the phone."

"Dean..."

"Goodbye, Dad," Dean said, pushing the button that cut the call.

He knew he'd been harsh with his father, even now he wondered if it was the right thing to do but as he was walking towards Sam's room again, he couldn't help feeling as if he had done the right thing for Sam. Because if his father's presence would upset Sam in any way, he knew he wouldn't have it.

Dean was used to protecting Sam, even from his dad, and if that was what it would take for Sam to get better then he would do it.

**oooOOOooo**

"_But, Dad, this is important, and I can hunt anytime but this time." _

_Dean stared at his 14-year-old brother, obviously trying to win a battle with their father._

"_I told you Sam," John said, irritated. "We need you on this hunt. That's all there is to it."_

_Sam bristled. "That's all you care about isn't it? Nothing can get in the way of your hunting. But guess what Dad?, I don't even like hunting!"_

"_It doesn't matter if you like it or not. We have a job to do and we're all going. I thought you'd be happy to get out of studying."_

"_I like to study," Sam said, his eyes getting that glow they always had when he told Dean about something he read. "It's the way that I am."_

"_It will just have to wait, Sam. This hunt is important, and you should be more invested in it, seeing as it has to do with saving lives."_

"_It's always about saving lives," Sam muttered._

"_Dad, what are we hunting?" Dean asked, trying to catch Sam's gaze, but he looked away._

"_A Demon," John said. When he saw Dean's apprehensive look he added, "We're meeting up with Caleb."_

_Dean didn't know what it was but something in his father's eyes made Sam speak. "Just because you save lives, doesn't mean Mom will come back," he said quietly._

"_What did you say?" John asked, shocked._

"_Nothing," Sam said nervously._

_John grabbed Sam's arm, shaking him and Dean silently wondered when Sam became way too smart for his own good._

"_Dad!"_

"_You're coming on this hunt, Sam," John gritted out, angrily. "That's the end of it."_

"_Dad, stop it, alright! You're hurting him."_

_Dean placed himself between his little brother and his father, who was still holding onto Sam, shaking his arm roughly._

"_He should learn not to talk about his mother like that."_

"_I'm sorry." Dean could hear Sam's voice from behind him._

"_He's just a kid, Dad. You're not allowed to hurt him."_

_He could feel Sam tugging on the back of his shirt, and he turned around._

"_Tell him I don't want to hunt tonight," he whispered._

"_We're all going on this hunt, Sam. I'm not changing my mind," John said harshly._

"_Fine," Sam muttered, heading for the door to his room and slamming it shut._

"_Sammy!" Dean yelled._

_But Sam was already gone, and all Dean could feel was that heavy feeling of not being enough._

**oooOOOooo**

When Dean walked into Sam's room, he could see Mariah's form bent over his brother, injecting something into his IV.

"How is he?"

She looked at him, as she rearranged the bag with liquid that flowed into Sam's body. "There's no change, I'm afraid. The doctor will check him tomorrow for new signs of improvement."

"That's good," Dean said, quietly.

"Everything looks fine here." She regarded him silently. "You should get some rest and come back tomorrow."

"No," Dean said, immediately. "I can't leave him...there's no one else."

If Mariah wondered what he meant, she didn't say anything. She just gave him a little nod before she left the room.

"You hear that, Sammy? I'm not leaving," Dean turned to Sam, gently putting his hand to the side of his face. "And I swear, if you even think about looking at that light, I'll kick your ass."

He didn't know much about what people experienced when they were comatose, but Dean knew about that light that could just pop up out of nowhere and swallow you.

It terrified him that this time there was nothing he could do for Sam, wherever he was. He just wasn't in control of what could happen.

There had been times where he was used to being in control, because it was his responsibility that Sam would never get hurt. He was used to being in control in a situation where he saw danger.

But now he wasn't.

Sam was alone now, and the only hope Dean had was that his voice would reach through to his brother, that it could pull him out of wherever he was.

"If you'd just wake up, I promise I'll never let you get hurt again."

It was a promise he'd made to himself.

Dean had always been there to break Sam's fall, but now he hadn't been able to. He'd let him fall like a solid rock into the bottom of the ocean.

**oooOOOooo**

As always reviews makes my day :)


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N:** A big thank you to all my wonderful reviewers! Thanks for dropping me a line.

Now on with the story.

* * *

**THROUGH FIRE**

_Chapter 5_

The back of Mariah had become as familiar to Dean as the buzzing sounds of the machines surrounding Sam in his room.

Early morning, before the doctor would arrive, she rearranged the medicines flowing through the IV. Checking his brother's vitals, her face had become serious as she wrote something on a clipboard.

Dean wanted to know what exactly made her look like that, but at the same time he knew that Mariah was someone who took her job as Sam's nurse seriously.

This woman had Sam's life in her hands. It was her job to constantly look for new signs and warnings that things weren't as they should be. As Mariah tucked in Sam's arm under the cover though, smiling slightly at Sam, Dean knew that he didn't have to worry.

"Is everything alright?"

"He's fine," Mariah nodded at him. "His doctor should be here in," she checked her watch, "ten minutes. He'll answer any question you might have."

The only question Dean needed answered was when his brother would wake up, but no one would be able to answer that question, no one except Sam.

Thinking about the possibility of Sam not waking up was something that made his heart beat so fast in his chest, he was sure it could explode.

There was no one else to blame if anything should happen to Sam now. Dean had been able to stop them from going on that hunt, but he hadn't. Why hadn't he stopped Sam from going on the hunt? Nothing was more important to him then Sam being okay, and he would have done anything to make sure Sam was okay.

But he hadn't known.

Dean hadn't known how deeply Sam had cared about Jessica. It was like watching a boat sailing into a terrible storm. No one was coming to the rescue.

It was just that devastating fact when you realized it was slowly sinking.

Had he really been that blind?

Wherever Sam went after Dean had saved him from those angry flames, he always seemed to look back at the life he had sought out to find.

Dean did see it clearly.

Even though there was nothing left for Sam, he was stuck and it seemed as if he would never be free from those memories, the dreams haunting him.

Sam never seemed to see his brother through his haze of sorrow, but Dean knew he was looking back, looking back at the way he carried that dream, at the way Jessica's invisible steps held that painful loss.

When Dean had come to get Sam, it was like he wanted to win him back. He wanted to take him away from that life he was determined to live. Yeah it was selfish, but he didn't want to look for his dad all by himself. He needed Sam with him, because that way he could mend the distance between them. He could make sure that their family became whole again.

Now, he realized he hadn't won anything. Everything he saw in front of him was the painful evidence of his own loss.

How could he never have seen how Sam had been burned too?

Jessica Moore had burned until there was nothing left, but it had reached Sam too. In the storm of danger, so ripping, so cold - the fire had spread and burned a hole in his heart.

And he hadn't been able to fix it.

Dean had thought that hunting would fix everything. It was the thing they knew how to do. What he should have expected was that recklessness in Sam, how Sam no longer cared what happened to him.

_I should have known_, he thought when he stared at the waves painting the waves of Sam's heart.

A knock on the door made him stand up from the chair he had been occupying.

"Hello. How are we doing today?" Dr. Graham spoke as if Sam was already awake.

Dean supposed it was to trigger something within Sam, just as when he himself had talked to Sam silently hoping his words would reach Sam.

He took out a pen light, which he inspected Sam's eyes with. "Still unresponsive," Dean could hear him mutter.

"What does that mean?"

"It means," Dr.Graham paused to do a sternum rub, that Dean knew tested to see if Sam responded to deep pain stimuli, "that nothing has changed. He's not responding to pain either."

Dean regarded the doctor quietly as he scribbled down more notes on the clipboard.

"What happens if he remains unresponsive?" He didn't really want to know, but somehow he found that he needed to ask anyway.

"Let's just wait and see."

_Wait and see. Wasn't that what he had been doing constantly?_

Dean didn't say anything when Dr. Graham proceeded to do more tests on Sam. He didn't seem to get the result he was looking for, as he kept scribbling more and more.

"We need to do an EEG and a MRI as well, to look at your brother's brain."

"Why?" Dean demanded. "What's wrong?"

"We need to see if there's any brain activity in your brother's brain." Upon seeing Dean's arched brows, he added, "Don't worry, these things always go smoothly."

Dean stiffened. "How long will it take?" He was thinking about the fact that Sam couldn't breathe on his own, which meant he wouldn't be able to lie in a machine for too long.

"It will take about half an hour."

There was a part of Dean that started to ache.

_What would happen if the brain activity was too low?_

He spoke to Mariah quietly, but Dean had already turned all his attention to Sam, not bothering to try to hear what they were talking about.

"I'll see you in a while, Sam." Dr. Graham then patted Sam's arm before he left with Mariah.

They disappeared out of the room, their voices fading away into the other voices whirling around in the hospital.

**oooOOOooo**

"What's this I hear about you not responding? Huh?" Dean sighed. He was trying so hard to keep his voice light when talking to Sam, but now all he felt was like all those walls he had so carefully put up were all breaking down in front of him.

Sam wasn't in his reach anymore, and not knowing where his little brother was, was something he had never wanted to face.

Yet here he was, trying everything he could to reach him, to get through to him because Dean couldn't let go of that beacon of hope existing inside of him.

"So I talked to Dad today," he muttered.

So maybe talking about their father wasn't such a good idea, especially with everything that was going through his head right this moment but Dean needed to. He needed Sam to know certain things.

For the first time in his life, he'd seen his father through Sam's eyes, almost forgetting how they'd held such knowledge even when he was young.

But what had Sam really seen in his father when he left for Stanford? A selfish obsession? Or something else?

Had it been his words, or actions? Maybe the truth was that Dean had been so focused on wanting to help his dad that he hadn't even noticed what their father was really doing.

What Dean had heard during that conversation over the phone was something so terrible that he was almost shocked he hadn't noticed it before.

That vision John seemed to have, like there was nothing else but hunting was like a tunnel in the dark with a flame at the end of it.

Did he even know that it could destroy his family if he went for it?

Apparently not.

Everything seemed to fade a little when hunting was involved, especially if it had something to do with how their mother died.

What Dean just couldn't see, was how it could be more important than the life of his own son.

Now that Dean really had seen it, a determination blazed inside of him. He wasn't going to let John Winchester come near his brother even if his life depended on it.

"You know that time you told me that he was too obsessed with revenge? Well, kid, I think you're right," Dean breathed heavily. "I didn't always think he was perfect, but I knew why he was doing it. That's why I kept following his orders."

It was important to Dean that Sam knew that he hadn't been following his father blindly. He'd been following his orders because it was the only way he could make sure that his family was safe.

"Don't think that... don't think that I always agreed with him. Sometimes his ideas were plain crazy, Sammy."

Dean smirked. "He never had to tell me that I needed to look out for you because… I just knew."

He'd always known that Sam was his to protect, and he never really needed his father's words of caution either.

As Sam's big brother, it was obvious that it was his job, and his job only to make sure that Sam was safe.

But now, now he didn't know what to say. There was so much he should say right now, but the words just wouldn't come.

How could he even begin to explain the vast emotions surfacing, while he'd realized how deep that obsession of their father's had really been?

How could he tell his brother that he only had one priority in his life, and it sure as hell wasn't hunting.

Staring at Sam's face, watching that thick brown hair that seemed so much browner against his pale skin, it was as if someone had put needles in his eyes.

Tears were leaving that familiar burning on his cheeks, but he found he couldn't bring himself to care. Dean just wanted to reach out to Sam, and pull him back out of that place where he was now.

"Sammy, I don't know where you are right now, but you gotta snap out of it, you hear?" Dean's hand held onto Sam's roughly, as if he never intended to let it go. "I need you to be okay, kiddo. I couldn't… I can't…" he faltered.

He could only stare at his baby brother. "I need you to wake up, Sam. You have to. You just have to."

Dean's other hand brushed away those unruly bangs from Sam's eyes, just because he didn't know what else to do.

**oooOOOooo**

That long wait, just standing outside that closed door, while Sam had to spend thirty minutes in a machine was killing him.

Dean never thought waiting would be this painful, that it would be this hard.

But it was.

It was like someone had stolen his Impala, only to run it straight through his heart. That tightness in his chest was almost like the sensation of that car crashing.

What was worse was that Dean couldn't even see his brother now, couldn't see anything but that door blocking him from the sight of his brother.

No matter how many times Dr. Graham would tell Dean how safe it would be, it didn't stop him from worrying.

_How could he not?_

His little brother was lying in there, not only unconscious but comatose, and he was going to lie stuck inside a machine for thirty minutes.

So what if it was a safe procedure? Sam was still his brother, and Dean had the right to know exactly what was happening to him.

What felt like hours later, Sam was rolled out looking just as he'd been before. Dean didn't even know if it was a good thing.

"We'll have the answers soon," Sam's doctor informed him. "I think we'll wait with the EEG. I don't want to move him too much right now."

Dean didn't have an answer to that.

How long would it take for his brother to lose more weight? Even now he looked terribly pale, and his hands were definitely looking too thin.

"I'll be back in an hour," Dr. Graham said, as Sam was back in his room.

Dean started to rearrange the blankets around Sam, before sitting down. "Looks like we have an hour to kill then, kiddo."

**oooOOOooo**

In the elevator one hour later, Dean studied the different floors, reading because hopefully it would keep the panic at bay.

It didn't work. Then again it rarely did.

"So, doc," he said, in an attempt to sound casual. "How does this work exactly?"

"Well," Dr. Graham said, as the door opened. "In an EEG, electrodes are placed on the scalp over multiple areas of the brain to detect patterns of electrical activity. You also check for abnormalities."

Dean raised his eyebrows.

"In your brother's case," he continued, "the most important thing is to see the electrical impulses produced by the brain cells."

_And that was supposed to make sense?_

Well, it kind of did, but that was mostly because Dean had been trying his hardest to understand all things medical ever since they had arrived at the hospital.

As a white door shut closed for a second time that day, Dean felt as if he couldn't breathe. It became physically hard to tell his mind how to breathe, as if he'd never done it before.

The only good thing was that this wouldn't take too long, and those results were going to come soon as well.

_As if that would make him feel better._

It was a steep mountain he had to climb and he didn't quite know how to get there yet. When he thought about his father, Dean felt like kicking something, and then there was Sam who didn't deserve the disaster that had been thrown his way.

All that guilt that was running in circles in Dean's head was always there, telling him that he was the one that was responsible for Sam ending up in the hospital in the first place.

Nothing could change the way he felt.

Now everything seemed to revolve around Sam, and this hospital that he almost knew by heart by now.

During the many hours he had wandered those corridors unable to sleep, or just because he wasn't allowed inside his brother's room, it was impossible now to remember the different places in that white sterile environment he was currently in.

Sometimes it was a strange feeling to see so many other people, some maybe in the same situation as he was in. There was that woman in the elevator, her hair looking just like old gold. Nothing could conceal the emotions in her eyes. You just knew she'd seen death or something very close to it. There were people leaning against the solid walls, their eyes closed but their heads pointing to the ceiling like they had just sent a prayer to a higher power, trying to find out if someone had received it on the other side.

Could he really tell himself that he hadn't done the same thing, just because he needed to put his hope in something else?

_For Sam._

Dean had now been there long enough to know the difference in the movements between someone who'd received the terrible knews of a disease, or the way someone walked when they'd just seen a child come to the world.

And at the same time every one of them had one person, maybe even more, something that kept them in the hospital, something keeping them strangely connected without anyone ever being aware of it.

But now Dean knew that he'd seen enough pain to see that raw desperation. It was so transparent to him that he didn't doubt it even for a second that it was the same thing that was reflected in his eyes as well.

**oooOOOooo**

Hours later, Dean felt his chest tighten with knots of dread as he saw Sam's doctor appearing in the doorway to Sam's room.

Eyes full of experience were sweeping the room that was darkened, quiet except for the beeps coming from the machines. Dean's eyes went to the clipboard the doctor was now holding, as if it held the possibility of revealing the world's greatest disaster.

"Dean," he acknowledged, as Dean's eyes met his. "We did lots of tests today, didn't we, Sam?" Dr. Graham turned to Sam. "I just got the results."

This made Dean's heart start hammering furiously in his chest. It was so loud it was drowning out the sounds of all the machines.

The doctor glanced at him. "Do you want the good or the bad news first?"

"The good," Dean answered, trying to ignore his thundering heart.

"Alright," Dr. Graham said. "We were able to see clear activity in Sam's brain. At times it was weak but it's definitely there."

"So when he wakes up he'll be okay?" Dean asked, almost forgetting to breathe.

"There's definitely an indication of that, yes."

Dean could almost hear a but in there somewhere. "What about the bad news?"

Dr. Graham consulted his clipboard. "We now think the seizure was a side effect of the injury, and the lack of oxygen to Sam's brain caused him to slip into a coma."

"What does that mean exactly?" Dean asked when he finally found his voice. "What's gonna happen now?"

"We just have to wait and see if Sam wakes up, and we will have to take it from there." Dr. Graham followed Dean's gaze when it strayed over to his little brother.

"But he will wake up? I mean if there's brain activity and all…" Dean trailed off.

"We don't know when Sam will wake up," the doctor continued. "There is also a chance that Sam might not wake up at all."

It was not something Dean wanted to hear, and yet the doctor had spoken Dean's constant fear, the unthinkable, something Dean never wanted to even imagine, let alone think about.

But it was there, hovering over him like a black cloud, the fear that Sam might never wake up.

The following night Dean couldn't sleep.

No matter how hard he tried, blurred thoughts of his father kept popping up but the worst were the memories about Sam that had now turned into nightmares.

It was those vivid memories of Sam letting go, the helpless sensation of watching him sink deeper and deeper into the water.

**oooOOOooo**

"_Now remember, what this thing wants is to get you under water," John explained, staring hard at his sons._

_Dean glanced at his brother, who was staring at something behind his father. "Sammy?" Dean nudged Sam with his elbow._

"_Sam!" John roared. "Are you even listening to what I'm telling you?"_

_Wincing, Dean noted that harshness edged into their father's voice that he didn't quite like. "We know what to do Dad," he spoke up._

_John's eyes swung from youngest to eldest. "The consequences will be dire if you don't. Remember that."_

_If he only knew how right he had been._

_One hour later Sam and Dean were standing in front of the lake, so great that it looked more similar to the ocean they had been to five days ago._

"_I still think this is a bad idea," Sam muttered quietly. "I don't even want to be here, not when I could do something much more useful."_

_Dean rolled his eyes. "Well, tough. We are here, so we might as well get the job done."_

"_I don't care about the job," Sam said sullenly, kicking a stick into the water._

"_Yeah. I got that from the first twenty times you said it," Dean fumed, not being able to keep the irritation out of his voice. "But we need to focus here."_

_Sam didn't look at his brother. "Whatever."_

"_Alright," Dean muttered more to himself than anyone else. "That's it." He grabbed Sam's arm when he turned to walk away from him. _

"_Don't touch me."_

"_Stop acting like such a baby then."_

"_I am not…"_

"_Then lose the attidude." Dean glared at him. "This isn't a game, Sam. Things will get dangerous if you're not paying attention. You know that."_

_Sam was silent._

"_Let's just finish this," Dean sighed, turning to Sam. "Okay?"_

_But Sam wasn't standing next to him anymore._

_As Dean looked around, his eyes scanning for his brother, he realized he couldn't see the figure of his brother anywhere._

_It took over ten minutes before his green eyes finally fastened on Sam. Relief would have been washing over him, but it didn't. Instead a knot of panic tightened in his stomach. _

_Sam was in the water._

"_SAM!"_

_He ran out on the landing made of wood, trying to keep his brother in sight as he did so._

"_D-Dean," Sam tried to say, apparently fighting whatever force that was pulling him down._

"_Sammy," Dean panted, reaching for his hand in an attempt to pull him out._

_But Sam's hand was already slipping out of his, his brown eyes widening in fear._

"_Don't you let go, Sam." He tried to pull him out of the water. "C'mon."_

_It was too late. Sam's hand was slipping away, just as Dean fell into the water._

"_SAM?" His voice echoed all around him._

_Sam was gone._

**oooOOOooo**

It was enough to make Dean wake up, panting, gasping for breath as if he had been the one sinking into the water.

Somehow he couldn't help wondering if Sam remembered what had happened, and if he did, if it felt like that time when Sam had almost drowned in the bathtub. Had he not wanted Dean to save him, like he had managed to in that lake?

Dean didn't know.

It was a constant nightmare that kept replaying itself inside his head. When he remembered what had happened, he knew it had felt like a living nightmare pulling Sam out of that lake.

That time had been like one of those times when he'd had to force himself to act faster, trying to stay calm even though it was impossible.

The knowledge that he might have been the reason for why they both had lost focus was why he would never forget that day.

**oooOOOooo**

_Sam was blue._

_When Dean had put his ear to his throat, he hadn't been able to hear anything but his own heavy breath._

_Giving his little brother CPR, it was as if Dean's body had started to act on his own, automatic._

_There was nothing like that relief he felt when Sam started to cough water, finally starting to breathe._

_But then Sam's eyes started to close._

"_Sam? Sam!" Dean felt the sensation of his throat tightening._

_Gently, Dean brushed Sam's damp hair away from his forehead, before pulling him closer for warmth._

_Sam's voice had vibrated through him like some kind of electricity. "D-Dean g-get o-off," Sam stuttered._

_But he hadn't cared, because his brother would be okay._

**oooOOOooo**

When he stared at the present Sam, he was almost reminded of the 15-year-old version. Dean couldn't help but wonder if that paleness had been the same one as when he had pulled Sam out of the water.

It was almost hard to look at Sam when he looked that pale, that fragile. Dean could barely stare at Sam without feeling that familiar stinging in his eyes.

And yet he couldn't look away.

But there was something he had to do tonight, something he'd been putting off because he'd felt the need to constantly be near Sam.

"Sammy," he whispered, moving so that his cheek almost touched Sam's. "You have to wake up, buddy." Dean wanted to shake Sam awake like he had done so many times before. "Come _on_," he whispered more urgently, almost positive Sam could feel his tears now. "Don't you let go."

It had almost been impossible to leave his brother, but then he reminded himself that he was doing this for Sam.

The Hospital Chapel wasn't really big, but it held the serenity you couldn't find anywhere else in the hospital.

But when he finally sat there, he was at a loss for what to say. Hell, he wasn't even sure if he knew how to do it. For an hour he had stared at the statue of the Virgin Mary wondering if those stone angels above her were supposed to be watching over her.

Dean silently shook his head. He didn't believe in angels. Not anymore.

Right now though he was going to have to try, because something had brought Sam back when he'd found him in the water and maybe, just maybe if he sent a prayer up there, that something would bring Sam back to him again.

**oooOOOooo**

There was a blinding light.

It was strong enough to reach him through his closed eyelids, where he lay on something solid on the ground. But as that light became stronger, the greater the pain behind his eyes became.

Sam had no other choice but to open his eyes.

He didn't know exactly what he had expected. Maybe everything would hurt because that would be qualified as some kind of punishment, but nothing hurt.

Sam's eyes were staring towards what would be a ceiling if there hadn't been some sort of silvery sky there, above those shadows leaving vapor trails.

Sitting up, Sam didn't realize where he was. It was simply nothing like he had ever seen, at least not that he could remember. It was as if there was nothing solid. There were only shadows that were made of some kind of white fog. Where the light he had seen was, he didn't know. Maybe it was something he'd imagined, because his mind was playing tricks on him in a place like this.

And yet, he was sure he'd seen it, something that was so strong, it had felt like watching lightning with closed eyes.

As he stood up without difficulty, almost scared to feel the ground beneath his feet, he felt as if there were soft clouds surrounding him. When he realized that he was definitely standing on something solid, even if he couldn't determine what it was, he began to look around.

Faster than Sam could blink, it appeared like lightning on a stormy night, but with the power to light up a room.

There was a light in the distance now, yet it was coming closer with every second.

If Sam had never known what the sun looked like, he would be thinking that he was staring at something like a golden angel coming out of the sun.

There was no sign of anything resembling lightning. There was only that soft glow around a beautiful figure he was sure he'd seen in his prayers.

Before him, Jessica Moore was standing.

**oooOOOooo**

_Please drop me a line to tell me what you think!_


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N**: So I know this chapter is rather short, and incredibly late and I hope **ScaredofPennies** will forgive me for my stupid writer's block. The next update will be up fairly soon though, and it will also be the last chapter in this installment.

Hope y'all enjoy it!

-x-

**THROUGH FIRE**

_Chapter 6_

It was early.

Not that it bothered Dean even in the slightest sense, since he had difficulty getting any sleep these days. If he closed his eyes, that pang of guilt would resurface yet again. The dread of being asleep when something could happen to Sam drowned out all sleep from him.

But what was he supposed to do?

All that seemed to be left for him to do was sit and wait, trying to somehow get through to Sam through words and slight touches.

Sam's state almost made him shatter, but then he remembered that this was his little brother. This was the person he was responsible for. He couldn't break when Sam's life was on the line, or if there was just the slightest chance that he would wake up.

But that morning there had also been something, something that had finally indicated signs of improvement. It shocked him, because Dean could honestly say that he could no longer remember how long it had been since he'd seen something remotely positive since Sam had ended up in the hospital.

Well, it sure sounded positive to him.

And it was all because Sam had moved.

And yeah, it wasn't by much – he knew that. But those cover of his, that were always like cocoon around him were all out of place. Sam was no longer lying in that still and rigid position he usually never slept in. When Dean woke up he'd been sleeping in that position that Dean was used to seeing. After all, he'd seen Sam sleeping that way for as long as he could remember. That position where he lay curled at his side, making him look like twelwe instead of his actual twenty-two.

Now, if only he would open his eyes.

Sam's doctor hadn't been as positive as Dean felt, telling him that this was usual and to be expected and that it didn't "have to" mean anything. For someone so adamant that Dean should have hope he sure wasn't inspiring much positivity.

But when it came down to it, who gave a damn what anyone thought, when a movement was always a movement. Who really gave a damn when there was that slight chance that he had actually gotten though to his brother – or the fact that maybe somehow, someone would help his little brother to find his way back to him.

Well, he could hope.

**oooOOOooo**

It had to be dream, and dreams weren't real.

Everyone knew that.

Dean had been telling him that ever since he could remember.

"It's not real, Sammy. It's just a bad dream."

But standing there, a small part of him was hoping that it was real. Hoping that she was real, and that she wasn't just something he had conjured up out of nowhere.

Because there was a difference now, from when he thought that the Fear Demon had been the real Jess. She was different.

Where there had been ice and cold fury there was just that familiar warm glow, coming off in waves. Because this was the Jessica he remembered. The girl with the bluest eyes, so blue that he was sure he sometimes saw the dust of the stars there, right before her lips would curve upwards into a smile. And if he could he knew that when they were about to kiss, she would still taste of summer and strawberries - just as she was standing there before him, solid and beautiful.

But he still couldn't believe how lame he sounded when he finally uttered a sentence. "Who are you?"

She raised an eyebrow that almost sent a chill down his spine, because how many times hadn't he seen her do that when she was teasing him. "You'll have to figure out that by yourself."

Sam looked down as his mouth curved into a grin, before finding his way up into her eyes again. It was too weird, almost freaky how he almost didn't know how to produce a smile and now he had to actually work hard to remember how to do it.

"Well," he whispered. "I could never forget you." Sam winced at how lame that really sounded.

But it was still true.

"I know," she said quietly, her eyes not leaving his.

It was like that first moment they'd met, and everything had just been _there_. Sam hadn't even noticed what it was, but now when she was gone it was just coming back screaming in his face.

And it was just like that poem that she loved, about two ships passing each other as they were sailing the open sea. But no matter how many oceans they sailed they still ended up in the same place.

It was only now that he began to understand the meaning of it.

"Jess..."

"Yeah?"

"Is this a dream?"

"No," she breathed out. "It's not."

**oooOOOooo**

_TBC_


	7. Chapter 7

**A/N**: I am really sorry that this comes so late, and there actually will be _one _more chapter and I promise that it will be the last. But I just needed to get this up here since I have been keeping you all waiting for too long.

I do hope you all had a wonderful Christmas and a New Year's. I also want to thank my friends who always keep me going - Devan, Jess and Funky.

**

* * *

****THROUGH FIRE**

_Chapter 7_

"Then what exactly is it?"

"Couldn't tell you," she said, "even if I knew."

It was the darkness in her voice that made Sam forget whatever it was that he needed to know, because somehow it just didn't seem to matter anymore. Jessica Moore was standing there in front of him with such light in her eyes, that Sam was reminded of that dream he'd had for longer than he could remember. And there she was, as if she was carrying his whole world in her arms.

Sam didn't even know how long he'd been harbouring that longing of being seen, of being heard. To be seen for someone else then just a hunter, even if he never knew what exactly it was that he was looking for. It only came to him when he was standing still, when he didn't run – and he found that he completely forgot what it was he really wanted.

But nobody had seen him like Jessica Moore had. She might not have seen him before Stanford, or known about what was hidden in his past – but she has the ability to see his soul. Sam could feel the pride in her eyes, just like she knew Jess could see all that love that existed in his heart. She was running through his head, as if she could lay herself down there and completely enter his mind.

And she was still everything he'd secretly dreamed about.

Sometimes he knew he hadn't had the guts to tell her the secrets of his heart, but he didn't need to. She had already colored every bridge to his soul.

And now he was waiting in the silence that was heavy with thousands of small hidden noises.

Now, Sam had difficulty seeing what was real and what wasn't. The only he knew was how solid Jess seemed, and he should know – since he'd held that hand more times than he could remember.

"So, Sam...what's going on?" Jess was staring at him just like that, like her eyes had the power to penetrate his soul.

"Y-You tell me."

"I think it's safe to say, that if you're here," she said, "something's obviously wrong.."

Which of course Sam hadn't really given much thought ever since he'd arrived here, wherever "here" meant. And right now he didn't even care, because she was standing there, standing right in front of him looking like all those women in the angelical paintings that everyone admired.

_She was so beautiful._

Sam had really tried to move on, he had, but something seemed to stop him. Sam longed for that girl that had in many ways made him believe in himself, longed for just one moment with her. But through that longing, claws were always gripping at him, painfully and slow. And the fact that she was somewhere else, when she at the same time constantly lived in his thoughts was something that had slowly been killing him.

Every stone, every memory, Sam knew he should have given her everything like she so clearly was prepared to give him.

_Everything he saw now was Jessica Moore._

It was like he had been the one that was burning, like a swallow in an ocean of fire. And nothing could cool his wings, nothing could take away that burning, stinging, scratching sensation.

You were supposed to protect the people you love. Period.

His dad and his brother never failed to show him examples of that, but he'd failed in doing that too – just like he'd always failed when it came to hunting. He was just never good enough, and now look where it had gotten him?

Given who was standing in front of him, it wasn't that bad. But she shouldn't even be standing there in the first place.

Although everything just seemed to scream disaster, Sam somehow found that the only thing he could focus on right now was the angelical creature standing before him. It was like he was wrapped up in pink cotton clouds when he was standing there with her, and nothing in the world existed but them.

After what seemed like a lifetime, Sam realized that this was his second chance, and that he had to take it.

Ever since she'd been gone, he'd been pushing himself further down that road to recklessness, hunting with guilt bordering onto an electrical fury. And somewhere along the way he stopped caring about what would happen to him.

Just to so he could end up next to her, just to get that one last moment with the only woman he'd ever loved.

"Jess..." he started.

She blinked up at him. "If you're going to say what I think you are, then you can stop it right there."

"Stop what?"

Sam could only stare at her, not knowing how he had survived all those weeks without her. Without a word, his heart had been in her hands. And now as she was looking at him, it was just like he was back at Stanford and she was trying to tell him something that she needed him to understand.

Jessica took a deep breath before looking up at him. "I don't need you to tell me that you're sorry."

"Maybe you do..." Sam muttered more to himself than anyone else.

"I do know, but that's not the point," Jess cut him off gently, "No one could have stopped this, nothing would have changed... not even if you'd let me in on your...past." Those velvet blue eyes fogged up. "Evil is still evil, and sometimes no one can stop it," she paused, "no matter how much you want to."

"I should have protected you."

Jess stared at him just as she had all those nights when he'd experienced those headaches he could never explain, as if she was the one in pain and not him. "No one could have protected me,Sam. You need to accept that this..." she waved her hand around, "wasn't your fault."

"How can you say..."

"I never blamed you."

Tears were clinging to those eye lashes like small drops of water threatening to fall. More than anything else it was those tears glistening there that made him stop and wrap his arms around her. The words got stuck in his throat, almost as if they had disappeared somewhere within her golden hair.

"I never blamed you, Sam," she whispered again, as if he didn't hear her the first time.

_But he'd heard her_

After all, those words were something that had the power to make him feel as if the weight of the world had been lifted from his shoulders. All those feelings he'd carried inside of him for so long, she was basically telling him that they shouldn't be there.

But Sam knew differently, even though no one else seemed to be able to see it. No matter what had really happened that night, Jess had still sacrificed her life – for him. She had protected him, just like his mom had protected him so many years ago.

Jessica had faced death because something was obviously after him. It couldn't be a coincidence that the two women in his life had died the same way.

"Jess," he looked at her, "you should be alive, you're not supposed to be here."

She only sighed. "Neither are you."

"If I'd never..."

"What, gone to Harvard? It doesn't matter, Sam. I could have gotten into a car crash, I could have died even if I had never met you." She blinked up at him, and now Sam could see tears falling down her face. "I don't regret anything, and neither should you."

"Jess," Sam breathed," I was prepared to m-marry you and I couldn't even tell you the truth. I should've told you the truth."

"I get it, okay. I do." Her hand was circling his wrist as she got closer to him. "But the truth is, if I could have done things differently I still wouldn't have."

Now Sam could feel that burning sensation behind his eyes, that sensation that was familiar to him. "I never wanted you to die."

"I know," she whispered, her lips now burning a tattoo of pure love onto his neck.

Jessica Moore had given him every piece of her, and she'd died because someone wanted to get to him. But the fact that she didn't blame him was what made him realize that she had loved him as if it was her last day on earth. And as Sam could only see that golden mass of hair, as arms came around his neck, he knew that this had to be heaven.

He was holding it in his arms.

**oooOOOooo**

Dean couldn't believe that he hadn't called, or tried to contact him in any way. There were no messages on his phone, there was just a big fat pale of nothing.

Yeah Dean had forbidden his father to actually come and try to visit Sam, but that shouldn't have stopped him. He was supposed to do everything in his power to really make sure that his son was alright. Screw the consequences.

But he hadn't.

John Winchester was probably out there hunting, and Dean couldn't stand the thought.

It was just... unacceptable.

The tiny piece of joy he'd felt when he realized that Sam had moved in his bed had now faded away, faded just like the day always faded into night. Dean had actually started to believe that it had been nothing more than a reflex.

It wasn't a sign of life, it was just a fucking reflex.

It had almost been a month. A month of hoping and always trying to believe that those brown eyes would open. At this point he didn't care about all those consequences of side affects he'd pushed out of his head, he just wanted his little brother to wake up.

But he'd never been good at this kind of thing, Dean had never been good at believing.

That was Sam.

But Sam couldn't believe right now, he couldn't really do anything. And it just about killed Dean that he didn't know where Sam was, that he just didn't seem to be able to reach him.

If he couldn't reach him, he couldn't bring him back.

That day when his dad actually decided to call it went to voice mail. But Dean wasn't about to call, not this time. Because Sam's doctor had asked to speak to him, and you had to be stupid to not know how serious the situation had become.

And when Sam was hurt, nothing else mattered.

That he knew for sure.

**oooOOOooo**

"_We're in the hospital."_

"_What! What the hell happened, Dean?" John Winchester barked out, loud enough that Dean had to lift the phone from his ear._

"_Sam got hurt, Dad," Dean offered, the worry for his brother almost echoing. "He's in surgery."_

"_What's the verdict?"_

"_They say he's gonna be okay, but they have to readjust his bones." Dean took a deep breath before continuing. "When are you coming?"_

_But John didn't seem to hear him. "How did this happen again?"_

"_In school. There was a fight."_

_Well that's one way of putting it. _

"_Damnit, and where were you?"_

"_In class," Dean said coldly, pissed about the fact that his own father was apparently not going to show._

"_You have to take care of your brother, Dean."_

"_I am."_

"_Don't you take that tone with me."_

_But he'd had it, he was sick with worry about that surgery even though he'd spent hours trying to convince Sam that he'd be okay. But for God's sake Sam was his little brother and nothing, nothing was supposed to happen to him._

"_Oh, I'm sorry. I'm just worried about my little brother who hasn't stopped asking about you since we got here. He expects you to be here, and you know this time... so do I._

"_Dean, I will be there." He could hear the sigh from miles away. "I just have to finish this, but I promise I'll be there."_

"_If you don't show, he's never gonna forgive you."_

"_Dean..."_

"_I'm serious, Dad."_

_Just thinking about how much pain Sam had been in when Dean had found him made him sick to his stomach. Not to think about what he could have done if he'd gotten there earlier. _

_Hell, they probably wouldn't even be here._

"_When is he out of surgery?"_

"_Few hours."_

"_Just watch out for him ´til I get there alright?"_

"_When are you getting here?"_

_Any other situation this would have been Sam's job, to fight his point with John Winchester. But now Sam couldn't do it. And in the seriousness of what really could have happened, Dean realized that their father had stepped too far._

"_Just do it, Dean," John said._

"_I already am," he answered softly._

_And he was. _

_He'd basically come to the point where he didn't care if John Winchester actually showed or not. He'd always taken care of Sam in ways their father didn't seem to manage. And John seemed to have failed to see the most important thing._

_When Sam was hurt, nothing else mattered._

**oooOOOooo**

"What are you saying?"

The table that separated Dean from the doctor was turning into a blurry mass of darkened wood, and he could sense more than hear the words that he was about to hear. The words that could destroy him and make his world come crashing down faster than he could even draw his gun.

Dean wasn't blind, he knew that the words "talk privately" almost always meant bad news, especially if "privately" meant in some doctor's _office_.

"What I am saying is," Dr. Graham continued, "that even though we have clear evidence of brain activity in your brother's brain there's no knowing of when he'll wake up."

_Tell me something I don't know._

Dr. Graham paused, and the silence seemed to last a lifetime and then some, before he turned to look at Dean intently. "If he wakes up."

If a heart could freeze Dean was pretty sure this was the moment, it was as if he couldn't feel anything just that cold frustration as he slammed his fist into the table in front of him. "What the hell is that supposed to mean? he demanded.

But the man in front of him didn't even seem to react to his actions. In fact he resembled a robot more than a doctor, with the way his features didn't even change.

"I won't lie to you Dean..."

_Yeah. You better not._

"...but the longer Sam stays in a coma the less are the chances that he'll wake up."

"Can't you do something then? Don't you have some kind of method that can help him wake up?" Dean wanted to know. "I mean, what the hell am I supposed to do, what if...?"

_Don't go there Dean._

"I'm truly sorry, but I'm afraid there's nothing I can..."

"Oh don't give me that shit. Of course there's _something_ you can do. This is your job, for God's sake. Now you're telling me you're unable to do it?"

Oh he knew he shouldn't start lashing out on a doctor who had kept trying to do everything in his power to help his little brother. But the frustration of everything made him want to scream at everything and everybody and he just didn't have the strength to care anymore.

Because the only thing he cared about, well, he was in a coma and didn't seem to be able to hear him.

He had to give it to Sam's doctor though, he still hadn't so much as raised an eyebrow, but he stood there looking much more rigid than he'd done before.

"I understand that this is a difficult situation for you, but we have to keep things realistic..."

"Says the guy who wanted me to believe?" He couldn't stand this for one more second. "I'm sorry doc, I can't do this right now."

He didn't even stick around for an answer either.

Dean Winchester had to give it one last try, he had to talk to the only person he could stand and he had to convince him to come back.

* * *

**TBC**

_Please tell me what you think!_


	8. Chapter 8

**I am very sorry this came in so late. But I want to thank everyone for reading and a big thank you to Amy and Jess for being so supportive :)**

**oooOOOooo**

**THROUGH FIRE**

_Chapter 8_**  
**

_Waiting is a fire on hold._

One month ago, and it would have been another one of those weird expressions that he wouldn't bother to even acknowledge. But it's weird how certain things can make you see the things that were once hidden.

No doubt Sam had always known what it meant, hell – maybe he could even relate.

And the weirdest thing? Now Dean could. Too much. Now he even knew what it was like waiting for something that never seemed to change. Something that just wouldn't alter itself no matter how hard you wished it would.

Waiting, waiting, waiting.

If that wasn't the description of what he'd been doing for a month, he didn't know what was.

It was just like watching a fire burning as if it would just never fade – never fade into those grey ashes.

And it was just like this.

Everything seemed to be set on hold, and still Dean was moving. But everything else was just standing still. Sam was still in a coma and Dean felt as if he'd been waiting a year for his brother to wake up. It was a month. A painful month, but it was only one month.

He wondered if Sam felt this way after watching the love of his life burn in front of him, and if that was the case, was she still burning? Did he feel like a giant tow truck had stepped in, just tearing his whole fucking world apart? Dean was pretty sure Sam could still see that fire in his head, and that was the problem wasn't it? He hadn't allowed himself to move on because of that guilt he was harbouring inside.

But not anymore.

Dean made a promise to himself that if Sam woke up – no, when he woke up – he'd make him see that he hadn't done anything wrong.

He only prayed Sam would listen.

**oooOOOooo**

He hadn't known for how long he'd sat there, just staring. Staring straight ahead, his eyes fastned on the bundle that was Sam's chest, seeing how it seemed to rise and fall. He didn't even hear all those buzzing sounds coming from all the machines around Sam's bed. Dean didn't know how long it had taken him to tune them out but now it was like he couldn't even hear them.

He felt like he was losing his mind. Well, maybe he was.

Now all he could do was sit there and stare, and still it was like he couldn't see. And that prickling sensation in his eyes just wouldn't seem to go away.

"Damnit, Sam!" Dean's voice was hoarse from frustration and panic. "You can't fucking do this to me, you hear me?" Dean yelled, as all that frustration he'd kept on a restraint, just seemed to pour out of him.

"You can't leave me, Sammy. You can't." He wiped away a rebelling tear, his other hand holding onto Sam's hand. "I just can't do this without you kiddo, alright? I won't. And you are not supposed to go anywhere without me, remember?" He laughed weakly at the memory. "You gotta remember."

Because Dean knew he would never forget.

-x-

"_Sam! Sammy!"_

_It wasn't funny anymore. It'd been funny when Sam was hiding and ran behind Dean trying to scare him, but now – he'd been gone for way too long._

_Panic was weighing his heart down when he couldn't find his 6-year-old brother anywhere. And he__ should know, he'd looked everywhere you could possibly look._

"_This isn't funny anymore, Sam." He yelled out. "C'mon already."_

_There was no answer.__ Dean couldn't see that little bouncing ball of energy anywhere._

_But then he did see something and he was certain his heart almost stopped, because Sam was standing in the middle of that road – and yeah it wasn't that big - but he could hear more than see the car._

_And Dean knew that something strange was happening to him, as his legs seemed to turn to jelly he was still sure he'd never been able to run that fast._

_Like those moms lifting cars to save their babies._

_Almost like super__ strength. _

_And it worked because he got to his brother in time, in time to save him._

"_Sammy," he said, his voice shaking slightly as he held his brother closer._

"_It got away," a soft voice said, somewhere near his ear. _

"_What got away?"_

_Dean couldn't think. What had Sam seen?_

"_I only got to pet it once," Sam continued. "It was a nice snake, Dean."_

_Snake? Are you freaking kidding me?_

"_You're not supposed to go anywhere without me, Sam! You hear__ me?"_

"_Ow! De-ean, you're hurting me."_

"_If that car had hit you, do you know what would have happened?" Dean loosened his grip, glaring at his little brother._

"_But...__but the car didn't hit me."_

"_You could have gotten really hurt, Sam."_

_Sam looked up at him, tears glistening in his eyes, threatening to fall. "The car didn't hurt me, Dean."_

_Dean sighed, realizing that his little brother was still really a baby, and Dean just __wasn't good at explaining right now. "Just don't go anywhere without me, okay?" And as he could feel that little chin nod against his _

_neck,__ a small hand gripping his shirt, he held on more tightly._

_You can't leave me Sam. You can't._

-x-

"Sammy..." It was like that frustration had suddenly been replaced by that desperation. "Come on, don't you think a month is enough of sleeping?" Dean laughed bitterly, the way you would when you're so upset that your body can't figure out how to react.

But he couldn't crack a joke anymore. Not when he remembered how Sam always rolled his eyes at him, it made his heart ache.

Sam hadn't even blinked. There was just no sign of any kind of response.

"Sammy," he whispered. "Please. Open your eyes for me."

He hated himself for admitting it, but for one moment he understood the meaning of what that doctor had really been saying. If Sam didn't wake up any time soon, who knew when he would?

Watching his baby brother, feeling that cool skin under his fingers – it was just painful. It was painful to see that paleness, that vulnerability that hadn't been there as Sam had proudly introduced his girlfriend.

And Dean remembered being impressed, because obviously Sam had seen something within Jessica that went beyond looks.

That Sam was – well, he was gone. He was out of his reach.

But Dean wasn't one for giving up, none of the Winchesters were. Every one of them were stubborn as well, and maybe that was also why Dean could never give up on his brother.

The one person he'd sworn to protect.

"Just give me a sign here, kid. Just squeeze my hand if you can hear me, can you do that for me Sammy?" Dean was whispering, his mouth just below Sam's ear.

He couldn't believe he was starting to talk to him as if he were a kid. But what else was he supposed to do? This was something he couldn't deal with, because this was never supposed to be happening.

Sam wasn't responding to anything anymore.

And Dean just didn't care how he sounded, or that his own tears seemed to fall on Sam's skin like water drops.

"Sammy... don't leave me. Please don't leave me." His voice broke. "Tell me what the hell I'm supposed to do."

But Sam wasn't telling him anything. And now Dean could feel his heart beat so much louder and so much harder, that it was a miracle it wasn't ripped out of him.

Dean's hand was slowly brushing thick dark curls out of his brother's eyes, trying to make him remember.

Remember that there would always be someone waiting for him.

But the truth was, Dean was terrified. He was terrified of the mere thought that his baby brother were somewhere he couldn't get out of.

That he didn't want to get out of.

"Sammy, you gotta remember. I'm not going anywhere. Just... please open your eyes. Alright?"

He almost expected it, the lack of movement – the lack of response. But it was still painful as hell to watch. Because all this time, all these weeks he'd tried to cling onto the idea of hope – for Sam.

Now he didn't know where Sam was, and it was as if he was slipping away. Just like Sam seemed to slowly slip away from Dean.

And this time, no matter how hard he'd try, Dean couldn't do anything about it.

**oooOOOooo**

"We've already gone over this."

Well that was true. But dreams about his girlfriend dying, and too many pieces of a shattered dream wasn't something he'd forget in a rush. And yet there she was, standing right before him, like some kind of golden angel you only so in those historical paintings. There was an inner glow about her, something he couldn't remember seeing before, and yet now it was almost as if some kind of inner piece was shining through.

But that couldn't be right.

"Jess, sweetheart" he started, "the thing that got to you, it came... it came because of me."

"I don't really care why it came."

"I do."

It was his fault, he knew it and on some level she had to know it too. She was a smart girl, and surely she'd figured out that the reason she wasn't breathing anymore was because of him.

"Sam, listen." Her eyes suddenly turned serious, and Sam was shocked to see actual tears glistening, threatening to fall. "I want to believe that I died so they wouldn't get you."

"Jess, I was supposed to protect you, not the other way around!"

If only he had told her the truth, if only he had let her in like she had so readily let him in, then maybe they wouldn't be standing here. But he hadn't, he and his stupid pride hadn't let anything or anyone get close enough to the family secret. Not even the girl he loved. Now what did that say about him?

"Sam, look, there are some things you can never protect yourself from - no matter how prepared you are." She smiled sadly at him, "they will happen anyway."

Sam couldn't quite explain how that one word still made him feel like he was walking on water, or the knowledge that she was looking at him like that – like she saw something he couldn't even see.

"I never wanted this."

"Neither did I."

"Jess..."

She must have heard it. The guilt, the anguish of knowing what had happened, and knowing that this was all they had left. Her eyes were shooting sparks. "No, you don't get it," she said in a harsh voice.

"When you went with your brother I didn't even know if you'd come back."

"I told you I'd come back," Sam whispered, tucking a golden curl behind her ear.

Tears were falling as she fought to get the next words out. "I was almost going crazy without you." She tried to smile. "God that sounds so lame."

"It would be equal to how you were the one thing that kept me going."

"Yeah well, that doesn't sound too bad to me." Her eyes were dancing as she let out that laughter, and they were that close again. Close enough to see all those emotions passing by, everything that felt so real.

"I want to stay here," he whispered, even though he got a lump in his throat when the words left his mouth.

"You can't." Jessica sounded devastated. "You know you can't. You have someone waiting for you, and that person isn't me." Then she winked. "Guess you're gonna have to sail that ocean without me, Sailor."

"It's a pretty damn big ocean, Jess."

Her sigh seemed to echo around them. "I know you can make it, and you won't be alone. You can do this without me."

"Yeah, well, I don't want to." The words came out of nowhere, but he still remembered that they were his brother's. He wondered if it was just a coincidence or something else.

"Sam, you have to."

He knew what this was, she wanted him to say goodbye. But he wasn't ready for that. _Not yet. _But she had to know. "I love you."

"Yeah, I love you too, gorgeous." She managed to get a laugh out of him. "Just don't go blaming yourself okay? Or I will seriously find some way to come back and kick your pretty little ass."

"Gotcha," Sam laughed.

_God he loved her so much._

"Now what will it take for you to kiss me?"

And there it was.

They were closer than ever before, close enough for their lips to touch, but Sam just hadn't had the guts to do it. Because it meant goodbye, he knew it. Maybe that was what he was so afraid of.

But this time he couldn't resist the pull of that hot affection burning between them_. _Feeling that cold softness of her fingers fitting perfectly with his, one hand moving up to his neck and that one kiss light as a feather – it made him feel like fireworks on the fourth of July.

And then there was nothing.

**oooOOOooo**

Dean didn't know what else to do. He'd tried everything, but with no success. He wasn't even screaming at the doctor anymore, not even when he reminded him of the possible outcome. There wasn't a sign of life coming from his brother, and he'd never thought that he'd come to this point – the point where he was really considering it.

_Giving up._

Betrayal was weighing down his heart, because that was what it was. He was Sam's big brother, and it was his damn job to make sure that this wouldn't happen. Yet he could feel it, failure screaming louder than every heartbeat that now sounded like the drums of death approaching.

_God, no._

"This wasn't supposed to happen, Sammy." His brother didn't react. Dean automatically brushed those bangs out of his eyes. "Not like this, damnit. _I_ was supposed to keep you safe." Tears were burning behind his eyes for what felt like the thousand time, but he didn't have the strength to give a damn.

_Not now_.

"Sammy." It was barely a whisper, but it came out of him as easily as he breathed.

Dean would have missed it if he blinked, but he didn't.

He saw it.

When Sam blinked, it was like some muscle worked harder than it had ever done before. "C'mon, Sammy, open your eyes for me," he pleaded with his brother, as he let his thumb rub circles on the inside of Sam's wrist.

It had to be real, he knew that it couldn't just be his imagination. Sam seemed to want to open his eyes, but he couldn't. It was all that it took for hope to spark up within him, because Dean couldn't give up now. Not when he'd seen those obvious movements in his little brother's eyes and jaw. It had to mean that he was waking up. And Dean wasn't about to let anyone tell him anything else.

But nothing could prepare him for that moment when two brown eyes stared at him, eyes that held such deep emotion it almost robbed him of his speech.

Sam was fighting the tube again, hands trying to reach it and Dean was reminded of how Sam had tried to remove it in panic before. Now he was really gagging on the tube that had been helping him breathe when he couldn't by himself.

"Whoa, easy, Tiger" Dean said. "It's helping you breathe, just slow down." He pressed the button for help while he shouted for a doctor. "Easy, Sammy."

Sam's eyes were glued onto Dean's as he firmly stopped Sam's attempts at pulling the tube out. But Sam never even blinked, not even when Dean began to draw circles with his thumb on the inside of Sam's too pale wrist. It was almost like he was afraid that Dean would disappear if he blinked, the tight grip on his arm told him so.

What he couldn't explain was the strength in Sam's grip on his arm, especially after that coma that had felt like an eternity. And yet, when he looked into those brown orbs it was like he was looking into the same soulful eyes of a much younger Sam, who had put all his faith in his big brother. The same faith he still harboured inside, that Dean would be able to make everything okay. "I'm not going anywhere, Sammy."

Dr. Graham came in, Mariah following in his shadow, both their expressions unreadable. Despite the feeling of déjà vu, Dean couldn't help feeling relieved. He had been holding his breath, not even daring to believe that Sam really was awake and that he would make it out of this alive.

_But know he knew._

As the doctor came closer to the bed Sam seemed to get a grip on Dean's sleeve, holding onto it like it was his lifeline.

"Hello there, Sam," he said in a calm voice. "We're going to take that tube out alright? I'm going to need you to relax for me."

Sam continued to stare at Dean with that puppy dog look, as if he was really expecting him to be the one to make it all better. The only thing he could do was grab his brother's hand. "It's okay."

With the help of Mariah, Sam's doctor the extubation went much faster then the last time. Dean couldn't help but wondering if that was because something was wrong with his brother. Maybe it was because Sam was clinging onto him like he had never done before, or maybe they realized that Dean wasn't about to leave the room even for a second, not when it came to his brother's health.

By the looks of it, it seemed like Sam had passed the test, he didn't even seem to need the oxygen mask anymore. Dr. Graham was noting Sam's answer to his questions, nodding encouragingly and speaking softly in reply.

It was pure relief to hear that the only thing the doctor needed was a simple MRI scan, to check that everything was in order. "Well, Sam, I will see you later when we know the final results."

"Thanks Doc," Dean said, sincerely grateful for all the work this hospital had done for his brother.

Even if he'd wanted to kill that doctor a while ago.

Sam's voice caught his attention.

"T-Thank y-you d-doctor," he whispered, his voice wheezy from the obvious pain it took to form the words. It shattered a piece of Dean's heart to see his brother like that.

"You're very welcome, Sam," Dr. Graham smiled. He left the room with the nurse, their coats becoming blurred shapes.

Sam kept his gaze at the blanket, his throat feeling as if broken shards of glass were pressing against it. He knew he was avoiding Dean's gaze, but he knew he couldn't explain what his brother wanted to know. The need to hold onto his brother was gone, deep inside he knew that Dean wouldn't leave – he probably never would.

And that made everything so much worse.

"So you gonna ignore me now?" Dean said lightly.

Sam shook his head. "N-No."

"Then what is it?" Dean hesitated. "Are you hurt?"

"N-No."

...And now he sounded more like a broken record.

Sam glanced at his brother as he let out a frustrated sigh. "I can't help you if you won't tell me what's wrong, Sam."

"N-Nothing's wrong, D-Dean. N-Nothing." He winced at the too obvious weakness in his voice.

Dean only snorted. "Yeah I can see that, Sam. And if you hadn't just woken up from a coma I might have believed you."

"'M'okay, D-Dean." Sam's gaze locked onto Dean's hoping that he wouldn't notice the way his eyes seemed to burn. But who was he really trying to kid, Dean had always been able to see right through him right into his very core.

"Sammy..."

"I t-think I wn'be a-alone n-now, D-Dean." Sam's throat was still hurting as he spoke, but he wasn't going to let his brother see him cry. Not after what he'd seen, not after what he'd realized.

"Sorry, kiddo. Not gonna happen."

"W-Why t-the hell n-not?" He probably already knew the answer to his own question, but he needed to be alone. Sam needed to be alone with those memories he still couldn't quite piece together. All he knew was that Jess had been there, and she'd been telling him things he needed to remember. Then she was gone and all the proof Sam had was that funny feeling in his stomach. That feeling that only came when that strawberry taste of Jessica's lips had enveloped his. She was the only thing he could remember, and some sort of place that felt like soft clouds surrounding him. Couldn't Dean just see that if he couldn't be alone he wouldn't remember? And he had to remember.

Dean glared at Sam, looking as if he couldn't believe what he was actually hearing. "Because, I'm not leaving you alone after you've just woken up from a coma, he said. "A coma, which lasted for a month by the way," he added quietly.

A month? Dean must have gotten that wrong. He couldn't have been in a coma for a _month_.

More to have something to do than anything else, Sam grabbed the cup of water standing beside his bed, lifting it to his mouth. What he hadn't expected was how his whole arm was shaking from the weight of that little plastic thing. Just as it slipped out of his grip, he could feel Dean catching it and lifting it to Sam's lips. "T-Thanks," he mumbled. He was staring at his arm, flexing the muscles, wondering how it was possible that he couldn't even hold onto such a small thing.

"Sammy? Sam!"

"Huh, w-what?" Dean's voice sounded so far away, but he forced himself to stay awake. He had to stay awake.

"You okay, Sammy?"

"M-my arm? W-What's wrong w-with m-my arm?" When Sam looked into Dean's eyes he only saw worry clouding the otherwise sharp green eyes. He was trying to look for an answer there, but he couldn't find it. Instead, Dean gently pushed him down onto the bed so he was lying down. "I'm...you...and..."

Dean studied him carefully. "It's from the coma, Sam. Your muscles haven't been in use for a month, but you'll get those back in no time." He flashed him a confident grin. "Get some rest, Sammy."

"M'not tired," he mumbled failing to stifle a yawn. He couldn't be tired, not after sleeping for a month. Surely that had counted for something? "S-Shut up, D-Dean," he managed to grit out when he saw that all knowing smirk play on Dean's lips.

"Hey, man. What can I say? It's not my fault I know you better than you know yourself." Dean smirked at his own joke, while watching his brother as he nervously played with the hem of the covers. "What is it, kiddo?"

But before Sam could even open his mouth someone had stepped into the room, calling his name. Normally he would have known what was happening even before his name was called, but now, he could already feel his strength giving away. Yet he could more sense Dean than actually feel his strong hand on his shoulder.

"...think it's time we had that MRI so we know all the facts about how everything is healing."

Dean was standing in front of him, his fingers combing through Sam's hair. "What d'you say, Sammy? We'll let the doctor take a look into that freaky head of yours, huh?"

_Well that was Dean for you, always with the jokes. _

But Sam knew that if it hadn't been for the heaviness weighing down his head, he could have sworn that there was also an unveiled concern there. "Kay, D'een." It didn't make sense how one could be that tired after having slept for a month, but he trusted his brother.

He trusted him more than he trusted himself.

**oooOOOooo**

It almost made him laugh.

Almost.

The irony of it all triggered that hot fury from somewhere within him, that same fury he felt everytime something dangerous came too close to his baby brother, but this time it almost shocked him. Dean never knew that his dad's 'Winchester way' would almost make him choke on his own anger, especially since he knew the reason being his dad's motives. But none of that excused his actions for the past month that had been worse than any pain he'd yet come to experience.

It figured that John Winchester would call when Sam was finally going in the right direction to getting better. And wasn't it just so goddamn ironic that he picked that exact time to call?

Dean hadn't even been able to get a coherent word out when the nurse told him about that one phone call. It was mostly a bunch of grunts and a bunch of his "I'm his father," and "Sammy would want me there." It was bullshit, that's what it was. And yeah so his anger had gotten the better of him but he didn't care. Sam was his first priority, like he had always been. And everything that came after that just didn't really matter as far as he was concerned.

The wait had been taking every ounce of patience he had left in his body, so when the doctor appeared next to an asleep Sam, he wanted to shake the man and demand the answer that would reveal Sam's fate.

But he couldn't wait any longer. "So... what's next?"

Dr. Graham consulted his clipboard yet again, before looking up to meet Dean's eyes." There's no sign of any complications whatsoever, there's no bleeding or any sign of brain damage," he explained.

For a moment Dean felt dizzy, then he caught himself holding his breath. Because he just couldn't allow himself to hope, it had seemed like too much to ask for. As a Demon Hunter, as a person who'd made so many mistakes and miscalculations he couldn't count them anymore.

"...of course he will need to come back for check-ups, but if everything goes well the physiotherapist, and of course if Sam is ready – he could be released in the next couple of days." He fixed Dean with a calculating stare. "You'll have to watch him carefully of course."

"Of course," Dean said, not missing a beat.

Twenty minutes later there was still nothing worth watching on the TV he'd glared at for so long it was starting to haunt him. "Unbelievable," he muttered to himself.

Out of the corner of his eye a movement caught his attention when Sam's blanket seemed to move forwards. The moment his eyes flew in to Sam's face, he found himself staring into two sharp pools of brown. "Finally," he muttered quietly.

"What?"

"Nothing. How're you feeling?"

"Fine," Sam mumbled.

"You sure? No headache, dizziness or any of that shit?" Dean eyes were sharp as he stared at his brother intently.

Sam's lips twitched slightly before he turned to Dean with a smile. "No, I'm fine Dean."

"Good to know we're past one word sentences," he grunted. "Now, there's something you wanted to tell me?"

Sam stared at him in confusion. "Huh?"

Dean sighed. "What do you remember from before you fell into the coma?" His eyes were sharp on his brother.

"I...uh, remember that we had a fight and then nothing." Sam sighed heavily. "And that I acted like an idiot."

"And this is news to me?" Dean smirked. Then he turned serious. "You weren't the idiot Sammy, trust me."

Dean knew he would never have been able to forgive himself if things had gone the other way, and he wasn't blind. He knew thing could have gone another way if he only had acted differently. But that didn't matter now when Sam was finally safe, he was finally out of the woods. And Dean was going make damn sure he stayed that way.

oooOOOooo

Sam stared at his brother. "Are you trying to tell me something?"

"It was obvious that you weren't dealing, and I should have backed off. All this," he waved a hand between them, indicating Sam lying in bed, "could have been avoided."

"What are you saying, that this is somehow _your_ fault?" Sam asked in disbelief. He wouldn't let Dean take the blame for this, not after everything he'd put him through. He had only himself to blame, and he knew it.

Dean stared straight into his eyes, as if he was trying to bore a whole right through him, right through his soul. "What I'm saying is, if I had acted sooner, gotten you to a doctor faster then yeah things might have been different."

"None of this was your fault, Dean. It was _my_ fault, I know that. No listen to me," Sam held up his hand to stop Dean from interrupting, "I know I was stupid for doing some things but this was never your fault."

"Huh, you know I could say the same thing to you." Dean raised one eyebrow.

Sam closed his eyes. "I know."

"You do understand that Jessica would never have wanted you to go through all this, don't you?" His voice was soft when he continued. "She'd never want you to hurt yourself like this, Sammy."

"Yeah." Because Sam finally got it while his gaze fastened on his brother. He saw the pain clouding his eyes mixed with the obvious relief when he was looking at him.

Jess would never have wanted him to blame himself, and in the end there was nothing he could have done. Just like there was nothing John Winchester could have done to save his Mary. But Jessica Moore knew how much Sam had loved her, and for now that was enough.

Sam wondered where John was, and if he had showed up when he was unconscious, but Dean would mention that right? He was about to ask him about it, but when he saw that look in Dean's eyes he just couldn't bring himself to.

There was something fierce there that he couldn't put his finger on, some mixture of protectiveness and a harshness he knew wasn't there before.

And then his eyes sort of softened when he thought Sam wasn't looking, or the way he'd tuck the covers closer around him like he'd done when they were kids. And somehow, John Winchester didn't matter, it didn't matter to him if he was there or not. Not now, when he saw how Dean probably hadn't left his side for one second. It almost made him ache to see all that affection warped into that same protectiveness that had surrounded him ever since he could remember.

"Sam? You with me, buddy?"

What was he saying? "What? Oh, yeah."

Dean chuckled quietly. "Guess that means my time is up here, and you should get some rest. We'll be outta here tomorrow." Then he smirked. "If you're up to it that is..."

Sam reached out and punched him in the shoulder, not as hard enough as he would have liked but he was pretty sure Dean got the message. "Shut up."

"Guess that's a yes then."

"Damn straight," Sam muttered.

Dean's eyes lit up as Sam wrinkled his nose when he reached out and ruffled his hair. "Tomorrow."

Sam's eyes held Dean's for a moment, glad to see that there was only relief and affection there. There was no room for guilt anymore, and now Sam could relate. "Tomorrow."

**oooOOOooo**

_The End_


End file.
